


Toying Somewhere Between Love And Abuse

by JustRosey



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/F, I have no idea where this is going to go, Ladies and Gentlemen, Luisa is as frustrated as me after watching season 4, Rose is being difficult in this, be warned, mostly ladies I suppose, my try at throwing them into couples counselling, they need this so bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRosey/pseuds/JustRosey
Summary: Luisa manages to convince Rose to do couples counselling with her.Will it help though? Or is Rose simply a lost case?This happens at some point during the time jump in mid season 3.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is. My try at doing the Couples Therapy thing that was promised to us by JTV, but never actually happened.  
> Oh, how my poor heart screams for canon material!
> 
> #CouplesTherapyForRoisa2k19 let's not lose hope!
> 
> I wanted to try writing something like this for a while, and now I managed to actually start with it.  
> I am mainly posting this first chapter now, so I have a motivation to go on and maybe for once finish a fic.  
> (I am way too good at writing a couple of pages and then letting the idea rot forever)

“No.”

“Rose, you promised.”

“In an emotional situation. I thought, I probably wouldn’t even make it long enough for you to ever rain check on that promise!”

“You had cut your finger.”

“It was bleeding like hell, and you yourself weren’t exactly calm and relaxed then! Anyways, it wasn’t fair play, to make me promise going to couples counselling with you, while I was bleeding out on that damned submarine!”

Luisa holds back the laughter, looking at her ever so difficult girlfriend, whose face has turned red in the course of this conversation.  
“Hey, I stitched you back together, didn’t I? Don’t I deserve a reward for saving your life?”  
The redhead glares at her, clearly not agreeing.  
“No. I’m not going to see a shrink,” she declares and wants to get up from the sofa.

“Alright, we’re not ending this conversation because you decide for you it has ended now. Not this time, Rose,” Luisa grumbles and grabs the other woman’s arm, making her sit back down again. “I’m asking you for this one thing. I want us to work on our issues. Don’t you want us to get rid of the unsaid things still standing between us? And a couples counselor is not a shrink.”  
Rose pouts but overthinks her first-impulse answer and swallows the harsh comment on how Luisa was the only one seeing those problems.  
“Why? What do you expect from it? A couples counselor, just as a psychologist, can’t talk your father back to life, Lu,” she says calmly, staring out of the big window of their London apartment overlooking the River Thames.  
“See? That’s what I mean: You don’t know how to understand how and what I feel,” Luisa bursts, and this time it is her getting up from the couch. “You killed my dad, Rose! You killed him, and you don’t understand the consequences that has!”  
“Because I thought there would be none. I thought we had talked it through, and I told you I simply panicked back then, and that I shouldn’t have done it. Full Stop. I don’t know what else I could still say about that chapter of our lives,” Rose declares, still as calm as earlier, but she too gets up now, blocking Luisa’s way, to make her stop pacing.  
“You could for example stop calling it a ‘chapter’, as if we both had closed it, and try with an honest apology for once!” Luisa yells in frustration, taking a step towards the formerly unimpressed redhead; but now she’s finally got a rise out of her.  
“An apology? That’s all you want? Oh good, yes, if it’s just that! Here you go: I am sorry,” Rose barks and turns away, unwilling to let her love see how she really means it too.

“I am not sure why I’m here with you. I might be making the biggest mistake of my life, but I am giving you a fucking chance, and you won’t even give me this one thing! No one sees you like I do, and I need to be sure that I’m not imagining all those things! Rose, the police deemed you a sociopath. Do you even know that?” Luisa goes on after a short pause, after having regained control of her breathing and tear production.  
Rose turns back around to face her with a snort and a short, humorless laugh.  
“Michael must’ve been inspired by Jane’s creative sense of drama and exaggeration. It’s not everyday you get to announce that you are the one who first discovered the truth about your local, charming, and also female godfather. Must've felt like a big, shocking telenovela moment to him,” she grins, actually finding this hilarious, but Luisa can’t hold the tears back anymore.

This however, does change something in Rose, smile disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, and in a way this really makes that label ‘sociopath without feelings’ seem totally wrong.  
She can’t quite place the feeling but it feels like a punch in the guts for sure.  
She takes a step closer and gently touches Luisa’s hand, trying to not act too fast.  
Luisa takes her hand away.  
“Hey Lu,” Rose mumbles, coming even closer. “Do you… do you actually believe this? The sociopath thing, I mean?”  
Luisa, who was staring out of the window, turns her head back to the other woman and looks at her through watery eyes.  
The redhead looks kind of haunted right now; her big blue eyes ashamedly searching for Luisa’s brown ones.  
“Lu… you know that I would never hurt you, right?” she whispers and tries taking Luisa’s hand again.  
Again, Luisa doesn’t let her.  
“See, this is what I mean. We need to figure things out. I’m not sure what I believe or not! I am not sure if I believe in us,” Luisa sobs and wipes at her tears.  
“I’m not holding you prisoner, Luisa. You are free to go, you can just leave… I would understand it too, if I make you feel like... like this. I just thought… I thought you were different,” Rose stumbles, insecure as always when the person she actually cares about is crying.  
“What do you mean by ‘different’?” Luisa sniffles, walking to the couch table to get a hanky.

The redhead honestly tries to figure out an answer, but she fails.  
“Don’t know. I just… It’s hard to put it in words… “ she admits disappointedly.  
“And that’s what therapy could help us with, Rose. I don’t want to leave you, or why would I want us to try this? I love you, babe. I do, really, but… we need a bit of help…”  
Rose swallows and stays silent for a while. When she finally speaks, she sounds defeated.  
“Alright… then we should try this, if you think it’ll help… us. I love you too, Luisa.”

And this time Luisa lets her take her hand.

-

“Miss Alver, Miss Ruvelle, I’m glad you are both here today,” the therapist starts once they’ve all sat down in the expensive looking leather chairs. “I hope I can call you both by your first names; it makes the whole conversation a bit more natural. So, to start this session, I would like you both to tell me why you decided to do couples counselling in the first place.”  
Rose swallows.  
‘I killed Luisa’s father, whom I was married to back then, and we’ve been having some issues in our relationship ever since’ does definitely not sound like a good explanation.  
Luisa saves her from her dilemma by speaking first.  
“We’ve been through a lot of difficulties ever since we met. At first, we couldn’t have each other because we were both with other people, and once we were both free… I don't know, we are able to be together now but we can’t figure out how-“  
Rose interrupts her. “The problem is that Luisa thinks my psyche is… a little off. I don’t show enough empathy, and I’m not good with anything involving emotions, according to her,” she declares and crosses her arms; they might as well start with the actual problem right away.

The therapist nods and takes some notes before she focuses her attention back on Luisa. “Would you agree with what Rose just said?”  
The brunette is still a bit taken aback by Rose getting to the root of their problems so quickly.  
“Well, ahm… yes,” she replies and suddenly feels an urge to hold Rose’s hand, but the redhead has her arms still tightly crossed in front of her chest.  
She is analysing the office they’re sitting in right now apparently; her eyes drifting from here to there, deliberately avoiding Luisa or the therapist’s gaze.  
It is pretty obvious to Luisa that she’s uncomfortable, but for the sake of their love she would have to sit through it.  
“Rose can be pretty impulsive sometimes. She does things without thinking about the consequences, and then she tries to make me forget something has ever happened by being overly sweet and kind until I mention our fight again,” Luisa continues and reaches her hand over to Rose’s chair, offering her hand to her.  
To her surprise, Rose turns to look at her and actually takes the hand too.

As long as holding hands still felt this comforting; taking turns in squeezing the other one’s, they couldn’t be a hopeless case; or at least Luisa hopes they weren’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of their first Couples Counselling session, and Rose really has some troubles dealing with the situation.  
> Luisa knows what she wants though, and she isn't going to give up on it (yet).
> 
> Bit of fluff, smut, and quite a lot of fighting... I'm sorry, but they can be difficult sometimes (read as 'often')

When they reach their rooftop apartment that night, Rose is still quiet and seemingly on edge, and Luisa is honestly running out of ideas to get her girlfriend back to talking.  
The redhead had not taken participation at the therapist’s office anymore after telling her about their problem; she had just sat there, staring at a painting behind the therapist’s left shoulder and held Luisa’s hand until their hour was over.

They had done some grocery shopping afterwards, and Luisa had bought fresh flowers to put on their kitchen table.  
Said bouquet, would have excited Rose on any other day, and she would have fussed about the florist putting too many different greens with it, ending up telling her which ones exactly she was allowed to add to the beautiful, pink peonies.  
Today, she’d just stood beside Luisa, lost in thought, and when she was nudged in the side and asked if she liked that particular shade of pink, she had just nodded and gone back to her trance-like state. If Luisa didn’t know her, she would think her girlfriend was close to having a breakdown.

“Babe, talk to me,” Luisa urges now, while she fills a vase with water to put the flowers in. “Was it this bad?”  
She glares at a silent Rose, who’s putting apples in the fruit bowl.  
“No… was okay,” she answers absently, not looking at Luisa.  
“No, it was not okay, you’re not okay,” the brunette continues and walks over to Rose. “Hey… come on, let’s talk about it,” she says and stands on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss into a pale, freckled cheek.  
“I…” Rose closes her eyes for a moment, as Luisa continues her trail of kisses down her throat. A moment later, goosebumps colonize her body; Luisa always found that one spot on her neck.  
“I don’t know… It just makes me think… I can’t deal with you being scared of me, Lu,” she mumbles, still avoiding Luisa’s warm, brown eyes.  
Tan arms snake around her waist, and Luisa presses their bodies together tightly, resting her head on Rose’s shoulder. “I’m not scared of you… But we need this. We need help with our relationship.”  
Rose grabs her tiny girlfriend by the shoulders to make her look into her eyes. “What you mean is, you think, I need help, right?” she inquiries, clearly trying to suppress her temper yet again.  
Luisa looks up into her love’s cool, blue eyes and shrugs. “Kind of… yeah.”  
Rose eventually bursts, taking a hurried step back, away from Luisa. “I would never hurt you! And I don’t want you to think I’m a… a crazy sociopath, or whatever. I just… ”

She looks so lost, and hurt, and desperate in that moment, it breaks Luisa’s heart, but at the same time, it makes her want to dig deeper into whatever must’ve happened to her lover to make her become who she is today.  
Luisa fills the gap between them again and puts her hands on the taller woman’s waist, feeling that tenth of a second of stiffness, of not wanting to allow that contact, before Rose leans into the touch.  
“I know that, but you can’t deny that you’re troubled when it comes to understanding that some things you do have consequences, babe,” she starts. “And you don’t have much hesitation when it comes to… hurting other people. Ro, I want to know if we can function, if we will ever be able to lead a stable relationship… Hey, I love you.”  
Rose looks more miserable than Luisa has ever seen her before (except maybe that one time when she’d had a really bad migraine, and Luisa had sat beside the toilet with her all night), but at least she accepts the offered hug, putting her head on Luisa’s shoulder this time.  
“I love you too,” she whispers into Luisa’s hair.

-

That night in bed, Luisa is woken up again by having an elbow rammed into her side.  
She blinks and switches the lights on, looking over to Rose, who still lies beside her with her eyes closed; fast asleep.  
She’s tossing and turning though, one hand fisted into the blanket, her head turning from one side to the other on the pillow, her pupils clearly moving behind closed lids.

It’s nothing really new to Luisa honestly; even years ago, when they’d still had an affair, and Rose had stayed the night for the first time ever, she had woken Luisa more than once, because of all the moving around she performed while asleep.  
When her father… when Rose had still been with him, he had amusedly told Luisa one day, he had found her on the balcony that morning; another time, he had almost stumbled over her legs, as she sat leaning against the kitchen counter, fast asleep with a bottle of coke in her lap.

Rose was a sleepwalker, that had been clear fairly quick, although she herself tried to deny it time and again.

During the last two years, Luisa and her had kind of had it under control; it rarely happened now that she actually got up and went anywhere.  
The reason why she didn’t subconsciously flee the bed as often anymore, might as well be that Rose’s subconscious actually wanted to lay beside that very person in the bed nowadays.  
Once or twice, Luisa had woken up and realised what was going on, and she had managed to gently guide her sleeping love back to the bed, and it generally helped when she held Rose in a loving embrace while she slept; she was much calmer then.

The couples counselling session must’ve been a little much for Rose, who rarely admitted when something was bothering her in bright daylight, yet she couldn’t always push those worries away in her probably rather dark dreams.  
Luisa carefully places a hand on her lover’s cheek now, wanting to stop her from turning her head again. It earns her a small whimper from Rose, and a bit of desperate leg kicking, trying to get rid of whatever she’s seeing in her sleep.  
Luisa knows, somebody having a nightmare shouldn’t necessarily be woken, so she just sits beside her for a bit, gently stroking her pale cheek and finally leans down to place a faint kiss on her forehead.  
That however, is enough to wake Rose up.  
She shoots up, crashing her and Luisa’s foreheads together, sending herself falling back into the pillows, groaning confusedly, while Luisa rubs the sore spot on her forehead.  
“Babe, you okay?” she asks, a smile tugging at her lips, watching Rose make the single most dramatic boo-boo face possible.  
“What…” the redhead mumbles, blinking several times, as she tries to adjust her eyes to the light. “Ouuuch… “  
“You do sound like you’re having a concussion,” Luisa grins and places a gentle kiss on Rose’s forehead again.  
“Did I wake you?” the redhead asks now, following her question up with a yawn that makes her wince slightly. “I’m sorry.”  
Luisa nods her head and strokes over Rose’s soft, red head of curls, twirling one around her finger. “It’s okay… Bad dream?”  
Rose yawns again.  
“Don’t know,” she shrugs. “You know that I can never remember.”  
Luisa just keeps on playing with Rose’s hair, not wanting to start a fight with her over that topic again.

[ “You dream every single night; you must remember what it was about once in a while!”  
“No, I do not!”  
“You’re just not telling me because it’s nightmares, right?”  
“No!” ]

Rose reaches a hand up to touch Luisa’s face gently, stroking her fingers over her temple, then down her cheek, touching her lips.  
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers. “I feel like I’m not telling you often enough.”  
She brings Luisa’s face close to hers by letting her hand travel to the brunette’s neck, pulling her down, and before Luisa can answer, their lips connect; their tongues talking their favourite language.  
Luisa pushes her hands up underneath Rose’s pajama shirt, feeling soft, warm skin beneath her fingertips that travel up until they reach the underside of Rose’s breast.  
That alone, is enough to draw a small moan from her; a small sign for Luisa to continue, even though it is 3 o’clock in the morning.  
She pushes Rose’s shirt up, and over her head, staring down at her naked torso for a moment, before lowering her head to place a trail of kisses from the redhead’s jaw down to the seam of her shorts.  
“Lu… I-“ is all Rose manages to get out, while she feels a wet warmth already pooling between her legs, and Luisa’s fingers find it too, sliding into her pants only a second later.  
“Shh… Don’t talk,” Luisa whispers and presses her lips to her lover’s, swallowing the moan caused by her fingers dipping into her wetness and starting to rub slow circles around her clit.

She can feel Rose approaching climax; her kisses become slower, sloppier, her lips plump and sticky.  
“Come for me,” she demands, letting go of Rose’s lips, turning her head to one side, biting down on her earlobe, and soothing the bite with her tongue right after.  
Her left hand is still continuing to rub her love’s breast, toying with one rock hard, pink nipple, when Rose’s back arches off the mattress, accompanied by a scream, that makes Luisa think the neighbors must’ve heard.  
She strokes a few curls from Rose’s forehead, letting her recover in silence with her eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a continuously slower rhythm.  
“How did you manage to be quiet back then at the Marbella?” Luisa asks after Rose’s blue eyes have opened and regained their focus again. “Everytime we have sex since we live here, I’m like ‘this time the neighbours must’ve woken up for sure’.”  
Rose grins lazily, pulling Luisa closer and kissing her again.  
“Can’t help you do such unspeakable things to me, that make me scream on top of my lungs at three AM,” she chuckles, before flipping them over and snaking a hand into Luisa’s underwear. “Let’s see if I can make you do it too… “  
That’s what they’d always been best at; sex. It always worked for them, they forgot about everything else, everyone else, and just loved each other’s night’s away, before they went back to dealing with all their problems and conflicts.

 

They wake up tightly holding each other, Rose’s head pressed against Luisa’s chest, and Luisa’s arms encircling Rose’s neck.  
“Good morning, babe,” Luisa slurs, placing a sloppy smack on her love’s forehead.  
Rose stifles a yawn, before hugging Luisa even closer. “Morning.”

When Luisa shuffles into the kitchen after her shower, Rose and a pancake tower drowned in maple syrup await her at the kitchen table.  
The redhead lounges in one of the chairs, bare feet put up on another, reading glasses on her nose, deeply invested in reading some book about art again.  
“You made pancakes? I love you,” Luisa cheers and sits down on the chair in front of the plate. “Where are yours?” she munches and looks at Rose, who’s still lost in her book.

“Hey, Ro-ose?” Luisa shouts and kicks Rose’s bare feet on the chair with her own.  
“Hmm?” Rose shoots her a quick look, grabbing her cup of coffee for a long sip, before she focuses her attention on her book again.  
“Aren’t you having any pancakes?” Luisa asks almost a little sadly; breakfast was so much more fun when you got to share it.  
“I’m not hungry,” Rose obliges and flashes the brunette a quick, small, almost shy smile. “But I thought you’d probably be in the mood for pancakes.”  
Luisa frustratedly chews on another big piece of fluffy, golden brown dough. Rose had really perfected her pancakes, while they lived here in London. “It’s not like I’m ever not in the mood for pancakes… “  
Rose gives her another… weird smile, and Luisa is starting to worry again. She doesn’t know her like this; all insecure and on edge because of something that might make things easier for them.

-

“That sounds good, don’t you think?” Luisa ponders, looking at job announces in the newspaper later that day. “I could be a nursery teacher. Then I’d have a job, a monthly income, and at the same time we’d compensate for the fact that you don’t want any kids.”  
Rose blushes and swallows hard. “You don’t need to work, we have enough money,” she answers, trying to focus on the magazine in her own hand.  
“But I want to,” Luisa argues, putting the magazine down and waiting for the redhead to look at her. When she doesn’t, she pinches her tigh. “I want to lead a life, as normal as possible. I want something to do during the week, so I can come home after an exhausting day, and enjoy the fact that I get to spend the rest of it, and the weekends with you. I want to feel connected to this city, I want to know people outside this apartment.”  
Rose looks at her over the rim of her glasses for a moment. “Okay, sounds good then.”  
Luisa stares at her for a moment.

“Really? That’s all I get? ‘Sounds good’?” she asks in an annoyed voice. Rose’s daydreaming was slowly getting on her nerves. “Are you and your thoughts still here on earth with me?” Luisa pushes against Rose’s magazine with her foot.  
Rose rolls her eyes but makes no move to actually say something about it.  
“What, Rose? Talk to me! What is wrong?” Luisa groans, sits up, and snatches the magazine from the redhead's hands.  
“Hey! I wasn’t done reading that,” Rose protests, trying to get it back.  
“You can have it back once you tell me what’s going on,” Luisa offers, shoving the magazine under the pillow behind her back. “Is something bothering you?” she goes on gentler, searching for her love’s eyes.  
“The fact that you’re sitting on a magazine that cost me 12 Pounds is currently bothering me, yes,” Rose gives back angrily and gets up from the couch.  
She walks over to the kitchen island, grabbing her earlier left behind glass of juice, and downing it.  
“I think, I’ll go on a run,” she announces, making her way over to the bedroom, trying to avoid the conflict she herself has started, as usually.  
“You’re not going on a run, you’re just trying to run away from this conversation,” Luisa yells after her. “Not that I’m surprised!”

Rose comes back from the bedroom again, starting for the couch.  
“Alright, then give it to me!” she bites out, standing in front the couch, hands on her hips, fixing Luisa with an ice cold stare.  
“Is it so hard to understand that the couples counselling makes me… like… I… I don’t know! It just has me really on edge, okay?” Rose stumbles, and frustratedly buries her face in her hands for a moment, before she sits down on the couch beside her love again.  
“I… I’m sorry, but all we do is fight ever since you brought it up.”  
Luisa watches her for a bit, thinking about how to answer. Rose was right in a way; they had fought a lot lately, and Luisa missed their easy going, uncomplicated days, when all they had to worry about was when to finally get out of bed and what to eat.  
“I understand… Ro, I… I want to be there for you if this is getting to you so much, and I’m not breaking up with you. We’re not doing this because I plan to, if we don’t get any positive results - please, don’t you think I would, okay?… But still, it’s really important to me, I’m not gonna lie, I want us to keep going,” she tells Rose calmly and takes one freckled hand into hers. “We’re both here together, and I believe in us,” she adds and squeezes Rose’s hand reassuringly. “Can you do it for me?”  
Rose looks at Luisa; looks into those warm, brown eyes, and her walls start crumbling down, as always, and she squeezes Luisa’s hand too. “Okay, yes I can do it for you… because I really love you, Lu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!  
> You made it down here, now it'd be too awesome of you if you'd let me know what you thought about it!
> 
> (I'm still open for suggestions about what to put into future chapters! (I didn't forget about Rose's lists btw, it's gonna be in chapter 3 I think))


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another fight, a job interview, ridiculous British laws, and Rose being Rose in her single session with their therapist.
> 
> (Also - this chapter includes their lists!!! finally!)
> 
> I am so bad at writing summaries...

[one week later…]

“Rose, I gotta hurry,” Luisa wheezes, already opening the front door. “I can’t be late for the job interview!”  
Rose appears from the bathroom, wearing her sports clothes with her hair in a tight updo.  
“I’m coming downstairs with you,” she announces, grabbing her headphones and key.

They walk downstairs quietly, Rose hanging in her thoughts, and Luisa experiencing it more as an uncomfortable silence.  
Her ride, aka Joey, who Rose had simply employed to come with them as their chauffeur on their travels, is waiting in front of the building already, as they arrive.  
“Okay, I’ll see you later, babe, keep your fingers crossed for me, yeah?” Luisa starts, opening the car door. “I’ll meet you at the therapist’s office at four?”  
“Yeah… see you later,” Rose answers, clearly not really listening.  
Luisa stares at her in disbelief for a moment, and her silence makes the redhead finally notice something’s wrong.  
Right when she looks up, eyebrows raised questioningly, Luisa slams the car door closed in front of her, and it finally dawns on Rose.  
“Lu, hey Luisa, wait!” she yells, but the brunette motions Joey to get going.  
“ … good luck with your job interview.”

-

Luisa rushes up the stairs to the office of their couples counselor. She had gone home after the job interview; she had just wanted to tell Rose, she hadn’t got the job, and how much that sucked.  
She had found their apartment empty, no Rose in sight, and her anger from earlier this morning had flared up again, so she had taken a cold shower and cried for a while.  
When she enters the waiting room of the office, it is empty; just like their apartment had been.  
She takes out her phone, cursing Rose for her unreliability, and waits for her to pick up.  
“Damn Rose, why can one never count on you, for fuck’s sake-“ then she suddenly hears Rose’s familiar ringtone close by.  
“I am here, in fact,” an annoyed voice comes from behind her. “I just went to the toilet. Sorry ‘bout that!” Rose barks, raising her hands defensively, well, more provocatively, when Luisa turns around to her.  
“Sorry for assuming the usual!” Luisa bites back, and plops down in one of the chairs, crossing her arms.  
Rose doesn’t sit down beside her, she stays leaning against the wall behind the chair; behind Luisa, until the therapist welcomes them and asks them to come into her office.

“So, Rose, Luisa, how has your week been?” she starts the session, sensing the tension between them. When neither of them answers, she writes something down on her chart already.  
“What is there for you to write already?” Rose asks, and there’s actually a hint of interest in her voice.  
Dr. Spencer ignores her question, when Luisa starts talking about the fight they just had outside.  
The session turns out to be pretty exhausting, and Luisa is close to tears more than once, while Rose shuts her and the therapist out more and more, giving curt answers, without letting any emotion shine through.

“Rose, can you understand Luisa’s point there? She felt really left alone by you in that situation,” the therapist addresses the redhead again.  
“No,” Rose answers, and for a change she stares right into the therapist’s eyes. “I don’t understand Luisa’s point, and what I understand even less is how this is supposed to help us because ever since we started with it, we’ve only been fighting.”

Since she has kept track of the time, staring at the clock on the wall opposite of her and Luisa’s chairs whenever it wasn’t her turn to speak, Rose is the one to end the session, by getting up. The therapist finishes taking notes, Luisa sighs and reluctantly gets up as well.  
However, the doctor stops Rose from walking to the door, by addressing her with a question.  
“Rose, I would like to do a session alone with you next week, if that’s okay for you?” she proposes calmly, looking at the redhead directly, making it hard to avoid her gaze.  
Rose looks puzzled, offended even, and her answer comes out with a sharp edge to it.  
“What would be the use of that?” she bites out and crosses her arms even tighter in front of her chest.  
“I would like to hear about your point of view concerning the situation a little more in depth,” Dr. Spencer explains. “I think it might be easier for you to talk to me alone, without filtering the stuff that might hurt Luisa here, in your opinion.”  
Rose stares her down for a few seconds, and Luisa doesn’t dare to interfere, but she foresees the worst.  
“What if I don’t agree?” Rose asks cautiously, seemingly having reconsidered her attitude and regained some rare snippet of patience and will to cooperate.  
“Nothing happens, you’re not obligated to do anything I tell you, but I do think, it would help you both a lot,” the therapist explains to her, giving Rose a, let’s say polite smile.  
It takes Luisa some time to realize, Rose is staring at her from the corner of her eye, silently asking for some reaction apparently; she does look a little anxious actually.  
Luisa pretends to not see Rose’s silent beg for help, but turns her eyes toward the floor.  
“... okay, so next week, same time, but I’ll show up alone?” the redhead finally sighs, averting her eyes from Luisa.  
“Great,” the therapist encourages her. “I don’t bite, we’ll do just fine, you’ll see!”  
Rose rolls her eyes and starts for the door after all.

-

“How’d your job interview go?” Rose asks carefully on the ride back to their apartment. She is pretty sure, Luisa would not be in this mood, nor would she have decided to not tell her, if she’d gotten it. “I’m sorry about this morning. Did you read my text?”

The car stops in front of their building, and Luisa escapes without giving an answer. She hurries up the stairs (she usually always takes the elevator; they did rent the rooftop apartment), with Rose jogging behind her, and for once not being able to catch up to her easily.  
She does catch up to her, when Luisa has to turn her bag inside-out, looking for “Those damn keys”.  
Rose has hers at hand quicker and unlocks the door. Luisa squeezes past her wordlessly and starts for the bedroom, her shoes ending up thrown haphazardly on the carpet.  
“Luisa-” she’s cut off by the bedroom door slamming close, and Rose takes a mental note, not to ask about that job interview again in at least a week; that is if that is the only reason for Luisa’s behaviour…

She decides to give Luisa space, and makes herself comfortable on the couch with her book about the English Legal System and the Oxford Dictionary of Law, that she bought just in case they had very different terms from the American ones, and she was too lazy to ask google (Rose still prefers oldschool dictionaries; you would’ve guessed).  
Luisa had had a good laugh when she had come home one morning, carrying a bag of scones and two heavy books about law. Rose had defended her buy, by saying she simply wanted to be informed about their legal system, but honestly, reading legal texts still was one of the most calming and relaxing things to her.

About an hour later, she is just reading up on the strangest laws still enforced in England until today, when their bedroom door opens again, and Luisa shuffles out of it. She is wearing her pajamas, her hair is a mess, and she looks like she’d just woken up.  
“Hi… “ she whispers, when she stops in front of the sofa.  
“Hi… “ Rose answers, looking at her softly over the rim of her glasses. “Are you a bit better now?”  
Luisa plops down on the couch beside Rose and slings her arms around the redhead’s shoulders, which ends in lying on Rose; almost, just that massive book’s in the way.  
“Are you reading your boring law books again?” she mumbles into Rose’s neck, trying to shift the position of her hips, so the edge of the book isn’t poking into her anymore.  
“This chapter isn’t boring at all. I mean, I think the book isn’t boring generally… anyways, did you know, all beached whales and sturgeons must be offered to the Reigning Monarch of the United Kingdom?”  
Luisa sits up to look at her girlfriend, to see if she’s just made this up to make her laugh.  
“I’m not kidding!” Rose smiles. “See, here,” she carefully frees the book from underneath Luisa, and opens it at said page. “And furthermore,” Rose goes on in an exaggerated British accent, “it is illegal to handle a salmon in suspicious circumstances.”  
Luisa can’t help but giggle, and when Rose’s face lights up like a christmas tree at the sound, she buries her face in her neck again, pressing their bodies tightly together; even though that book is in the way again.  
“I read your text after I woke up from my nap… “ Luisa starts, and Rose feels something wet on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean to-” Rose interrupts her by taking Luisa’s shoulder and holding her away just enough to see if she’s crying.  
“Lu, don’t,” she soothes, wiping at the heavy tears, rolling down her beautiful lover’s cheeks. “I’m sorry…”  
“No, I’m sorry, because I should know you better,” Luisa sobs, and cuddles into her again. “You wrote down all the things I needed to hear, but you can’t say them out loud, can you?”  
Rose hates herself for feeling anger flare up in the pit of her stomach; just because of that sentence. Being told about her weaknesses had always been her biggest weakness. She swallows and stays silent, but continues holding Luisa. Maybe she was right; maybe she did have a problem with saying things out loud; she’d had massive problems apologizing to Luisa up until one year after Emilio...  
“It’s okay,” Luisa hiccups and sits up straighter again. “You are trying, and I know that. Maybe next week is going to help? Do you think it might?” she asks, not sounding very hopeful.  
“We’ll see,” is all Rose can force out. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

-  
[the following week]

“Please come in, Rose,” Dr. Spencer greets her with that ever so friendly smile, and Rose can’t help but cringe. Luisa had come with her in the car, and although Rose hates to admit, it had helped that she had told her it was going to be okay, while squeezing a cold, sweaty hand.  
Before Rose had opened the car door, she had reinforced this once more, followed up by a soft kiss, and the redhead had decided to try her best today.  
“Sit, please.”  
Rose almost tiptoes over to one of the leather chairs and sits down, wiping her hands at her jeans on the go.  
“I’m glad you decided to try this,” the therapist smiles, and Rose thinks she hasn’t ever been more uncomfortable in any situation in her whole life; and she’s had guns pointed at her numerous times.  
“Are you nervous about this?”  
Rose meets the other woman’s eyes and swallows against the lump in her throat, hoping her voice won’t come out strained.  
“No.”  
It sounds like a lie and they both know it, but Dr. Spencer ignores it skillfully, probably understanding that asking further questions about it would only make it worse.  
“Alright, let’s start, shall we. I have a few important questions to ask!”

Around twenty minutes later, Rose gazes longingly at the clock again. The therapist hadn’t gotten much out of her, but after numerous attempts accepted that trying to ask Rose questions about her childhood was about as successful as trying to open a safe with a butterknife.  
Dr. Spencer had her emotions very well under control usually, but Rose managed to make her look frustrated.  
“What does Luisa mean to you? Can you somehow put that in words?” she tries almost desperately.  
Rose looks at her again and one can almost see the wheels churning in her head.  
“I love her,” she says, and it sounds more like a question, if that’s an okay answer.  
“But what does she mean to you? Can you imagine, what it would feel like if you didn’t have her?” Dr. Spencer goes on, trying to empower Rose with one of her kind smiles.  
To Rose, is does quite the opposite; she feels trapped. She can’t win here because she doesn’t know the price, or what is at stake… at least she doesn’t know just yet.  
“I think I’m just not very good at this talking about feelings thing, doctor,” she caves and slips back into one of her well known, stiff, emotionless postures. She licks her lip, checks the clock again, and dreads the fact that only five minutes have passed.

“Would writing it down be easier for you?” the therapist shakes her out of her silent time-cursing, and Rose is so eager to get over with this, she forms a plan.  
“Actually, writing does come easier to me… maybe I should try this instead?” she suggests, and her face looks a little too excited for it to be a truthful emotion. “To be honest, I need coffee so bad right now, and there’s this nice place just across the street. We’re not getting very far here, are we? Maybe, I should just go and get to the writing with a cup of coffee right now, yeah?”

Doctor Spencer is still a little perplexed, when she shakes the redhead’s hand goodbye a mere minute later. Did she just say yes to this? They still have about half an hour left.  
As if Rose had heard her thoughts, she tells her that she’d of course be paid the full hour honorar.

-

Rose actually makes her way over to the café; the confession that she really needed coffee had been the only one this session.  
She isn’t exactly proud of herself for leaving before time was up, but she just can’t see the point of talking about all this to a complete stranger who will never know everything anyways.  
She gets her coffee and strolls over to an empty table by the window.  
Maybe she should show a little compassion and actually think about the ‘what does Luisa mean to you’ question.  
Luisa is her everything, and she had always thought that Luisa knew that too, but lately…  
How does one write down what a person means to them? Is it possible to measure a person’s value?  
Rose sits there sipping her coffee, and she has a questionable idea.  
So, Luisa is a woman, but not the first one; maybe thinking about all the woman before her, trying to compare her to them made it easier to come up with some sort of dictionary definition for what Luisa meant to her.  
She’d done a kill list for Luisa a year ago; why not do the sex list now?

-

“What are you doing, babe?”

Rose observes Luisa hovering behind her, and jumps a little.  
She had been thinking about the damned name of this woman in that motel in San Francisco in 2005. The sad thing was, Rose could clearly remember the year, but not even the woman’s face really. She’d been young and desperate to try things out whenever she had the chance; and Elena wasn’t watching.  
Another sad thing would be the sobering fact that she’s come to terms with never actually having had a girlfriend before Luisa…

There had been Eva, her first love? No, Puppy love. Actually not even a summer fling. Just her horrible first time.  
She forcefully pushes the image of her heartbroken, fifteen year old self crying into a stuffed animal, the night after Eva had outed her as gay in front of the whole classroom away. That stupid, stupid, stupid person had lied about ever having agreed to- no, initiated any of the things they’d experienced together that fateful summer, and told everyone Rose was a complete creep that had touched her in... "wrong" places. Her! The quietest one in the whole classroom, who always walked a little ducked because she was at least one head taller than most other girls, and blushed when someone only said as much as good morning.  
Even the headmaster had gotten word of that cruel lie, but when that skinny, shy, Freshman girl had sat there in his office, hiccuping in order to not suffocate from the hot tears streaming out of already painfully reddened eyes, he had actually showed empathy and believed her. At least enough to recommend her transferring to another school. It had been the last time she could remember, someone showed empathy to her; it had also been the last time she cried, the last time she had been a wimpy kid.  
But she’s not thinking about this right now.

“Eva Holden, Sarah Peters, Jane Ramos*; are you making a sex list, Ro?” Luisa ponders and Rose blushes.  
*(whoops they had sex at law school aka Harvard once - Rose has a weakness for Latina women, and JR had always liked girls that start stuttering and go crimson red when she’s around)  
Rose looks at her and gives her a small nod, waiting for a reaction.  
“Did Dr. Spencer tell you to do this?” Luisa asks a little puzzled, but not the freaked-out way Rose had feared.  
“Well… kind of?” Rose answers, and writes down San Francisco instead of that forgotten woman’s name.  
“You know what? I’m gonna make one as well,” Luisa giggles and presses a quick smooch on her lover’s neck, before stealing a piece of paper and a pen.

“How many have you got?” Luisa asks after half an hour, having a final look over the names on her own list.  
“25,” Rose answers casually, finally adding the last name, Luisa’s name, to her list.  
“Ah yeah, you lack behind me a few years of, let’s say, sexual activity. I always forget,” Luisa gives back innocently, and Rose’s head literally shoots up. “32, and I haven’t counted Susanna or Eileen, don’t worry.”  
Rose has gotten up from her chair and walks over to Luisa, who’s sitting on the floor in front of the sofa.  
“32, ha? Show me,” she pouts and plops down beside Luisa. “How many of those were one-night-stands?”  
Luisa lets her eyes drift over her list again.  
“Okay, let’s do it the other way round; Alice here, Sophie, Maria, Eliza, Alexandra, Allison, and you of course-” she presses a kiss into Rose’s cheek, “were long term relationships, and the others were Summer adventures, Ashram encounters, and one-night-stands.”  
She barely finishes, when Rose moves to sit in her lap, pulling the list from her hand and placing it on the coffee table, before connecting their lips. Her hands grab Luisa’s shoulders, and her knees on either side of her hip trap her in that very position. The redhead brings on hand up to Luisa’s neck, in order to steady it, but the brunette starts giggling into the kiss. “Ro, what are you doing?”  
Rose breaks away for a moment, darkened blue eyes staring into indulgent, brown ones.  
“Making sure I am the most memorable one of those relationships?”  
Luisa puts a hand on one of her love’s blushed cheeks, and leans in for a very slow, soft kiss again.  
“I think… “ she whispers in between kisses, “ … you’re trying be a little possessive, and show me who I belong to.”  
Rose nods eagerly, looking as hyped on the kiss, as a five year-old on candy.  
She gently shifts Luisa’s position by guiding her away from the couch, so she has space to lie down on the carpet. She crawls onto Luisa, connecting their lips in a hungry kiss again and slips her hand into Luisa’s shorts.  
“Uh uh, Ruvelle!” Luisa protests and props herself up on her elbows. “I’m not gonna let you fuck me on the floor again. Last time we did this, I had a back ache for a week. We either continue this on the couch, or I get to top!”  
To her surprise, Rose just swings her leg over her and lies down on the floor beside Luisa, waiting for her to get going with their new position.  
“You’re unbelievable,” Luisa laughs and moves to sit on top of the redhead. “But I like it; we went from you trying to be a possessive badass to an obedient, needy starfish… “  
She grazes her teeth along Rose’s collar bone, making her shiver so hard, Luisa can’t help but grin satisfiedly.  
She works herself up to Rose’s jaw, placing bruising kisses on fair skin, leaving purple lovemarks in her wake.  
Rose’s hand has found its way back into the brunette’s pants after all; after being paralyzed for the first minute of electric kisses to be precise, and now it’s her turn to grin, when she finds that Luisa herself hasn’t been exactly unaffected by their play.  
“I am your starfish, and you’re trying to be my ocean it seems,” she grins, and Luisa stops to look at her for a second.  
“That joke was too bad, and I will just pretend you didn’t say anything.”  
Rose just keeps on grinning and twists her fingers inside Luisa so skillfully, she almost sends the brunette falling onto her chest.  
“As long as you are not trying to joke during sex…“ Luisa goes on, but Rose flicks her thumb over her clit. “ … everything is so perfect!”  
The redhead props herself up on her free hand to reach Luisa’s gorgeous, red lips.  
“Still feels like fireworks… After all these years… “ she whispers, and Luisa wants to cry about how much she loves her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feast on comments and kudos; keep me alive you guys? Pretty pleaaaase!
> 
> No, honestly, tell me what you think, and if you have an idea for future chapters... (I'm in a bit of a crisis rn ha ha ha)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay!!!  
> Good news is, I'm done with all my exams, and will therefore try to update weekly again!
> 
> I honestly don't know what I think of this chapter... I wrote it with so many interruptions and deleted or changed scenes far too often, so I apologize if it reads a little unsteadily...

Their next session the following week, is the worst by far.  
For the first ten minutes, Dr. Spencer wants to talk to Rose alone, to hear if she has come to a conclusion for the question they had discussed last week.  
Rose tells her, she had made a sex list, trying to figure out what made Luisa different, but they had just ended up having actual sex, so she hadn’t really figured out an answer; and she also tells the therapist that all she had helped them to, until now, was lots of needed make-up sex.  
Dr. Spencer has turned red in the course of Rose’s monologue, and loses her cool completely, when that obnoxious, redheaded, thirty-something woman actually has the audacity to assume, that she, would only spread the seed for conflicts, to make the couples need many, many more sessions.  
The therapist tells Rose, in her opinion, the problem here is her alone, and of course couples counselling won’t work for them like this. Their issue was Rose behaving like ‘an unstable, inferior child’, who should start seeing a psychologist. That was the only thing, she could think of that might be able to save this relationship. She has to try very hard to keep her voice steady in the course of saying this.

The rest of the session with Luisa, goes down as if nothing has happened, but the tension is still there, and Dr. Spencer’s face is lacking the usual smile.  
Just when their time is up, she addresses them one last time.  
“I think it would be best, if Rose had some independent sessions with a psychologist. She displays some behaviours that I am not qualified to put into a diagnosis, but someone with the required knowledge certainly could and that would benefit you both and your relationship very much. It will be exceptionally hard work with your non-existent will to cooperate tough, Miss Ruvelle.”  
Rose shoots her a death glare for not keeping her smart mouth shut about all of it, and Luisa is taken by surprise, when Dr. Spencer ushers them out of her office right after.

-

“What in the world did you say to her?”

Rose ignores the question, walking to the other side of the car.  
“To the apartment, Joey,” she commands; literally commands.  
“Yes, Sir!” Joey replies, saluting them, and Rose shoots him a glare.  
Luisa would’ve found it funny, as she usually did, when Joey had no respect at all for Rose, even teased her, because he simply knew her for too long already and couldn’t seem to take her serious. Yet asking him about her was useless, as he would give away about as much as Rose herself would.

“Rose. Answer my question. What happened?”  
The redhead shoots Luisa that glare now, but seems to think about how to explain the situation… whatever had happened.  
“It doesn’t work for us, you heard her yourself,” she answers and crosses her arms in front of her chest, not bothering to buckle up in the limousine.

Rose lives for the risk, and even if her risky business nowadays was reduced to just not keeping herself precautionarily safe in a car, it was still something.

“That’s not what she said. It sounded more like she thinks, it doesn’t work for you,” Luisa corrects her, reaches across Rose for that seat belt and tries to maneuver her stubborn girlfriend’s arm through it. “Stop behaving like a child and put that seat belt on!”

When the limo stops in front of the apartment, Rose’s seat belt right away clicks open again, and she’s out of the car in record time, but not heading for the entrance of their building.

“Rose?!”  
She keeps on walking, her red hair waving rhythmically in the fresh breeze.  
“Where the hell are you going?”  
She doesn’t turn around; doesn’t answer.  
“You know what? She’s right!” Luisa yells after her. “You are our problem!”  
She sees Joey in the car looking after Rose as well and shaking his head slowly, and feels tears streaming down her own cheeks, putting out the burning anger in the pit of her stomach, turning it to empty smoke.  
She just feels so lonely with her sometimes.

-

Luisa had never been one to be angry for a long time. Rafael had managed to keep her in rage for a few days in a row sometime in the past, but otherwise her anger always quickly changed into desperation.  
No, not that kind of desperation you’re thinking of right now! Not these days anymore at least.  
After pacing the living room for about twenty minutes, thinking about all of it and nothing at all, she drags herself to the kitchen, hearing her tummy rumble but not feeling hungry at all.  
She grabs an apple anyways, gathering the strength to just sit down and grab some magazine. She couldn’t do anything right now; it isn’t her turn.

When Rose shows up again about two hours later, Luisa is prepared for an ugly fight, but Rose just puts a piece of paper down on the table in front of her.  
“What’s that?”  
“Just read.”  
Luisa drifts her eyes over the document.  
It was an appointment form for a Dr. McCormack, psychotherapist.  
“I will try, okay?”  
Luisa turns her head to look at Rose, who looks back at her in a mixture of stern determination and a shy need for approval; it never failed to amaze Luisa how someone was capable of displaying such a weird mixture of emotions, but Rose sure was a master in it.  
“Okay.”

-

[three weeks later]

“Hey!”  
Luisa slings her arms around Rose from behind, pressing a kiss into the redhead’s cheek.  
She had been to no less than five job interviews during the last three weeks and had written applications for at least 4 more.

Rose had been to psychotherapy three times already including today, and to Luisa’s dismay had been ‘confused much’ the first two times after coming back home from the session. She couldn’t really, or rather didn’t want to talk about it either, but her drawing had become a little excessive; she had filled one sketchbook per week.

“Hi,” Rose whispers, still concentrated on keeping her lines straight. “How did it go?”  
“Well, they liked me, but I don’t have enough experience in their opinion… “  
Rose turns to look at her, temporarily abandoning her sketch, and leaning in to give her love a real kiss.  
“I can’t believe nobody wants to give you a job… I would trust you with the nuclear football just because you are the most wonderful, smart woman I’ve ever seen,” she mumbles and drags Luisa onto the couch with her, letting her sketchbook fall to the floor carelessly.  
“Primary School teacher holds a little less responsibility, I think… And I’d rather trust you with it, than the president, too,” Luisa smiles, pressing her body against Rose’s.  
“I would no doubt be a better president, because clearly almost anyone would be a better president! I admit, I too know how to ruin a country, but that would make me capable of figuring out how to do the opposite!”  
Luisa pushes up on her hands and looks at an obviously serious Rose with a grin.  
“Rose for president, hm? How did psychotherapy go today?”

“It’s just not very nice of you to say that in the same breath, you know,” Rose pouts and accepts Luisa’s soft, close-mouthed kiss anyways. “I just… don’t like it very much… “  
“To talk about your past, feelings, and actions?” Luisa mocks her and nuzzles her neck.  
“Exactly, couldn’t have said it better. Now, let’s not talk about mental health anymore, but focus more on the bodily pleasures in life,” Rose purrs and pulls Luisa into hungry kiss, before spinning them around on top of the couch.  
“The president gets to top today, because she feels like it.”

Luisa can’t think clearly anymore with Rose’s mouth on her center, Rose’s hands digging into her hips, and her own hands buried in soft, red curls.  
Her blood feels like it’s flowing through her veins quicker, her head feels light, and her legs are shaking.  
Rose sure knew to press all her buttons well, and lately she seemed to take pleasure in teasing Luisa far longer than usually.  
“Ro… please,” Luisa whispers, but all Rose does is look up at her with a satisfied grin and blows another cooling puff of air onto Luisa’s burning center. “Please, just… “  
“Stop teasing?” Rose asks innocently, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of Luisa’s thigh that is hooked up on her shoulder. “Only because you asked so nicely… “  
And, adding two fingers and a fast rhythm, she flicks Luisa’s clit with her tongue one last time, sending her into a spiraling orgasm.

She gives Luisa a minute to recover, stroking up and down her sides, before crawling on top of her, lavishing the feeling of skin-to-skin contact. Luisa pulls her closer immediately, pressing a sloppy kiss to pink, swollen lips, discovering a faint taste of herself on them.  
“Mmh, let’s take a nap now… “ Rose mumbles into the kiss, before sitting up a little to reach for the folded blanket at the foot end of the couch, and covering their naked bodies with it.  
“You haven’t slept again last night, have you?” Luisa acknowledges worriedly, rubbing soft circles on Rose’s shoulder.  
She doesn’t get and answer, Rose just sighs contently, whispering a “Don’t stop… “ concerning that shoulder massage, and snuggles into Luisa even more.

-

[the following week]

Around three in the morning, the night after Rose’s fourth time at the psychologist, Luisa is woken up by a, yet again, tossing Rose.  
The redhead hadn’t been doing too well at night lately. She had started to either toss and turn all night, or even get up and wander around the apartment, only to wake up somewhere and stumble back into the bedroom entirely confused, and deciding to just not sleep at all the following nights.

A few hours ago, she had finally drifted off, after Luisa had stroked her back for at least three hours, and had already been thinking about how to make her swallow a valium without noticing.  
When Rose feels the mattress dip beside her, as Luisa is sitting up, she wakes again, and the brunette swears herself to force a valium into her tomorrow night.  
She shoots up, one hand still fisted into the sheets, breathing heavily. She looks so haunted, it breaks Luisa’s heart.  
“Babe?” she starts gently, placing a soothing hand on the redhead’s trembling shoulder. “It’s okay… It was just another dream.”  
She starts rubbing her shoulder, soon putting her other hand on her back too, massaging a tense neck, until Rose turns around in her arms, pulling her into a hug.  
“That one was bad, hm?” Luisa whispers and strokes over the messy head of red curls on her shoulder.  
Rose doesn’t answer, so she just keeps on holding her, stroking her hair… until something makes her stop.  
A tiny, almost inaudible sob.  
“Rose?” Luisa asks stunned. “Hey, Ro.”  
She pulls away a little, frees one of her arms and lifts her love’s head by the chin.

“Aww, Rose,” she coos and pulls her into an even tighter hug, causing another small sob to escape. “Talk to me, love… What was that dream about?”  
After a moment of hesitation, Rose sits up just enough for them to be able to look at each other.  
She sniffles a few times, bites her lower lip to suppress the sobs and wipes at her cheeks.  
“I-I can’t do it… I just can’t do it, Lu… “ she hiccups, keeping her eyes trained on Luisa’s face.  
Luisa thought, something was strange about the way Rose cried; it was strange how she, even in a situation of complete vulnerability, managed to hold her usually challenging eye-contact.  
It was probably her lack of experience when it came to… crying.  
“What is it you can’t do, Rose?” she tries, bringing one hand up to wipe another big, ugly tear away.  
“I-I can’t… I can’t go to those sessions anymore… You’ll end up leaving me! I know it, because… because this is tearing us apart, because I am tearing us apart! I don’t want to think about how I became who I am now! I know, that I am who I’m meant to be when I’m with you, and I’ll just learn on the go, Luisa, I promise. You just tell me every single time I’m pissing you off, and I will try to change and become better at all those emotion involving things I’m bad at, but please, no more couples counselling or psychotherapy!”

She looks less haunted now; more like she’s on speed by the way she blurts the words out; words that sound less like a beg, but more like a compromise they had agreed on already.  
Luisa looks at her, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, and Rose awkwardly averts her eyes, sniffles another time, and starts to play with the satin tie of her pyjama shorts.  
Luisa ignores the weird feeling in her stomach, and crawls forward a bit to be able to reach her love.  
“Okay, so first, come here,” she soothes and wraps her arms around Rose again, who melts into the hug. “I guess, in a way this is progress too… I don’t want you to feel so miserable because of those sessions, Rose, you know that, right?”  
Rose gives a small sound of agreement, cuddling more into Luisa.  
“We’ll stop … this is no good to either of us, if you can’t even sleep anymore… “ Luisa sighs, and when Rose sits up again nodding, all tears are gone, and Luisa sleeps without interruption for the rest of the night.

-

[four days later]

“Where are we going?” Luisa giggles, being dragged down Dover Street through the pouring rain by Rose. She is trying to stay close enough to her girlfriend and the huge, rose patterned umbrella she is carrying, but Rose’s excitement results in a very swift tempo.  
“You’ll see soon enough!”

When Rose finally stops in front of an elegant looking, pitch black restaurant entrance, Luisa’s back is pretty soaked and she’s shivering, but a whiff of well known, deliciously, cooked dishes makes up for it all.  
“You said you missed your food,” Rose grins mischievously, and opens the door for Luisa. “Took me a while to get a table here. But, bienvenida en el mejor restaurante de América del Sur en Londres!”  
There are too many amazing smells in the air for Luisa to realize how exquisite the interior of the huge restaurant looked; she was too high on the smell of Empanadas, Arepas, and Picarones.

An hour later, when Rose is still feeding Luisa Churros and looking like she has never done anything more rewarding than stuffing her girlfriend with greasy, way too sweet food, she suddenly makes a suggestion.  
“Let’s leave again. Not the restaurant, I mean, but London. We’ve been here for a while now, and we could sell the apartment and just go anywhere we want again. Find some new place we like and stay as long as we want to. I’m getting tired of the rain and all the things that happened in this city already.”  
Luisa looks up at her, mouth still full of Churros and caramel sauce.  
“To be honest, I already found someone who would buy the apartment rather today than tomorrow. All we have to do is pack our things,” she adds and smiles at Luisa, who’s finally done chewing.  
“I’m actually just getting comfortable in the city… Rose, I’ve applied for jobs and everything. Life is not a never ending vacation… I thought we wanted to settle down for a longer time now?” Luisa gives back gently and takes her love’s freckled hand on the table.  
“But our lives could be a never ending vacation? We don’t need the money you’d get from watching kids play all day long, and you didn’t get any of the jobs anyways? We have everything it takes to just travel the world and stay wherever we want, for as long as we want to!” Rose seems really disappointed and on the verge of an outburst.  
“I’m tired of hotel rooms and airplanes, Ro… I like our apartment. It really feels like home by now, and we have put so many hours of work into it,” Luisa tries to remind her carefully, but she knows, this whole dinner had the one purpose; to lull her into complete content and tired satisfaction, so she would agree to what Rose had certainly not asked spontaneously.  
Rose was a lot of things but not spontaneous.  
A stranger might mistake her actions as such, but Luisa knows better; Rose crafted plans carefully, and admittedly, she was very good at it.

Their walk back (they had decided to give Joey the day off) is quiet and tense, Rose pouting and pondering in silence, and Luisa walking two steps behind her, already questioning her decision to stop couples counselling and letting Rose have her way, as always.  
The rain had stopped, the nocturnal streets smelled fresh and clean, the stiff breeze was cooling their warm bodies quickly, and Luisa wished she had a warm hand to hold onto, a tall, lean body to snuggle into on their way ‘home’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Excuse my Spanish, that’s actually Google’s Spanish... so probably entirely wrong)
> 
> Now, I'm interested what you thought about it?
> 
> Gimme some feedback, lovely people!  
> Pretty please?  
> xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay - July has been way too busy!
> 
> New chapter, and I wish it could be a positive, happy one, but... nope.

Rose wasn’t too talkative during the next couple of days.  
She went out a lot, leaving the apartment early in the morning, going who knew where, only to come back, in a slightly better mood to help Luisa cook lunch, before the smallest hint of an argument on the horizon made her flee their home again in the afternoon.

She hadn’t brought leaving up anymore, not even once, but Luisa knew, she was thinking about it almost constantly, plotting a new strategy to get Luisa to agree.

When Luisa had asked, if there was a specific, or even urgent reason for them to leave the city, Rose had just shrugged her shoulders dismissively.  
It had made Luisa suspicious; very suspicious.  
She knew Rose too well, to not see through her actions.  
On all their previous travels, whenever leaving had merely been something Rose wanted to do, because she was bored of the place they were staying, she wouldn’t shut up about it and find good arguments for it, until Luisa agreed.  
Not this time.  
It took a lot of self-control; it was obvious it did, but Rose would not even start talking about a ‘why now’, or a ‘where would we go next’, if Luisa asked her directly.  
It made Luisa shudder, thinking up various, frightening reasons, why Rose wanted to leave so badly and was only waiting for the right moment to bring it up again.  
Someone… someone from the past might have found her, or she had got herself into trouble without Luisa noticing and the police were on her, or she had hidden a body in their basement and wanted to leave before… No.  
Rose had been very straightforward about being done with crime.  
Luisa had chosen to believe her, and she wouldn’t start doubting her now… or would she?

-

Rose was still, well, Rose, and although she was far from having someone after her, who was dangerous enough to make her restless at night, she had a very pressing reason that made her want to leave; and that was not the police being anywhere close to finding her, and neither had she stored any decaying bodies in their basement.

However, Rose had been lying about something for a long time, and she was anything but aware Luisa would find out about it on this sunny Wednesday morning, when she got into the back of the limousine, telling Joey to drive her to the shops.

“No, we weren’t fighting,” she right away defends herself, when he looks at her with questioning eyes, while she focuses on the shopping list Luisa had handed her.

Joey had always had a peculiar influence on her, despite him not really being a talker.  
He had always been there, as long as she could remember, and he had always been… kind to her. Not much more, but kind at least.  
What she hated about him however, was that he could make her spill things, she had sworn herself to bury deep inside of her and never talk about to any living soul.

“Just because you didn’t yell at each other this morning, doesn’t mean you’re not fighting anymore,” Joey replies casually, starting to drive.

“And how does it concern you anyways?” Rose barks, crossing her arms in front of her chest, almost crumbling the list.

He sighs and gives it a rest.  
He always does, and that’s what makes her talk. Sooner or later.  
She lets her eyes drift over Luisa's words again, not really processing them, only asking herself, what they needed distilled water for (Rose does not do the ironing; ever; you guessed).  
She reaches into her pocket, wanting to call Luisa, but when she's just about to press call, she stops herself, and drops her phone back into her jacket pocket.

“She just asked me to do the shopping… She wasn’t feeling too well this morning,” Rose explains, and she leans back a little more into the seat.  
It looks like she’s relaxing more and more, but Joey knows better, when he eyes her in the rearview mirror.  
She’s slowly exposing herself, self-confident shell slipping off of her from exhaustion, and she just stares out of the window, empty eyes following people that don’t matter to her, flashing by the window.  
He had only seen those eyes empty for too many years, until they had sparkled that one night, when he had driven her and her husband’s daughter to a lonely beach motel in Fort Lauderdale.  
After that, he thought she’d be okay.  
He had hoped she would be.

[ If she were younger still, nothing but the little, “useless orphan” girl, struggling under the command of her harsh stepmother, she would’ve drawn her legs up, holding herself until he stopped the engine in front of her school.  
In the first year after her dad died, she had cried silently every morning on that car ride, and he’d let her.  
Joey wasn’t much of a fatherly figure; he didn’t like children; he didn’t know how to talk to them.  
He had worked for her father, and seen her grow up. She had been a shy kid, but a happy one, even after her real mother had died when she was just four years old.  
After her father was gone too, he had decided to stay, keep his job as the family’s driver, even though he couldn’t stand Elena, and hell, life would’ve been easier if he had quit, but something had made him stay, and he secretly knew it had been that pale, eye-ringed, thin ten year-old, who looked a little more dead every morning she slipped into his car; only mumbling a sad “Good morning, Joey” (if it was one of the better days).  
There might have been a time, he could’ve helped her.  
He could’ve reported what was happening, and yes, it would’ve cost him his job, but he could’ve saved a soul maybe.

Her crying did stop, and he remembers that day uncomfortably well, because he had felt so guilty, observing those same, empty, blue eyes staring out of the window, seeing nothing.  
He still does.  
He should’ve helped her.  
He never knew what exactly Elena did to her, he supposed, she didn’t beat her, but he also knew, mental terror was just as bad as physical, and he didn’t want to know too many details honestly.

One afternoon, she had showed up in the garage; she must’ve skipped school he thought, and she had just sat there for a while, not saying a single word (she rarely talked those days), watching him fix something at the car.

The following day, they left. Moved to Switzerland for the following five years, and later he found out why.  
Clara Ruvelle died the day they left, in a car crash with a boy from her school.  
A boy that had been run off the road on purpose, with a girl in his car, who wasn’t Clara Ruvelle.

And oh, the countless troubles that followed; the fights with the other girls at boarding school, the frequent bruises and broken bones from skateboarding even though Elena had forbidden it (together with all her tomboyish clothing), or literally wrestling with Derek until one of them had too much of a nose bleed or blood seeping bite mark, and not to forget, that shady deal she had been involved in because of Elena and got shot in the shoulder twice. She had only been 15, but she hadn’t cried a single tear.  
He shudders, recalling how he had dragged her to the limousine, after Elena had finally agreed to let him take her to hospital. He had tried to get her to understand she had to keep pressure on the wounds on her shoulder, but in her haze, face as white as her shirt had still been only a few minutes ago, lips purple already, and eyes as blue as the sea during a storm, her trembling hands had always slipped away, smearing blood on the leather seats, and she had calmly asked him, if she was going to die now.  
He pushes the thoughts away.

Ever since she had met Luisa, she had been getting better… She looked alive again somehow.  
But sometimes, when she was alone in the car with him, silently staring out of the window, thinking thoughts he’d never understand; never even want to know, he still saw that little, scared girl. ]  
Maybe he could help her; at least this time.

“You should tell her. You have to. You can’t mess this up again.”

~

“Yes?”

Luisa kneads her temple, as she picks up the phone. Her shopping list had really not been that cryptic, so Rose would have to call her already again, asking what they needed a descaler, or whatever for, and where the hell she’d find it.  
“Rose? Can you hear me?”  
Only silence follows.  
She can hear cracking noises, and just when she wants to hang up on Rose, apparently butt calling her, she hears muffled voices.

“... done with all the lying?”

Luisa can tell it’s definitely not Rose’s voice, and she’s suddenly scared Rose is in some kind of trouble.

“Deserves to know… did… again.”

She only now recognizes the voice as Joey’s, and hears Rose sigh, sounding much closer to her phone that was probably still in her coat pocket.

“Suck it up, Joey. My love life is mine, and I don’t need you as an adviser. Thank you very much. Sometimes keeping a relationship up takes a little bit of acting and pretending.”

Joey mumbles something like, “Because you’re such a professional when it comes to love and relationships,” but not even Rose hears that.

“I just think-“

“No. Don’t think. That’s not what I’m paying you for.”

He sighs. A very long sigh, but he isn’t finished just yet.

“- you are lying to her … know what she hates most. Just saying … she finds out, you’ve not once been… psychologist, but I… some museum … drawing for an hour … I pick you up again, you’re in big trouble.”

Luisa can’t hear every single word, but what she can understand, makes her mouth fall open.

“And why should she find out? I’m not going to tell her, and I’d strongly advise you to shut up about it, if you like your job. I got what I wanted. She has finally given up on that ridiculous couples counselling that we just don’t need in my opinion.”

~

Luisa hangs up and drops her phone on the bed as if it’s burning hot.  
What she had just heard… How dare she!?

She doesn’t know why, but she immediately thinks back to the night, when Rose had woken up from a “nightmare”, after being to the “psychologist”, and Luisa had thought how weird her crying was.  
Truth was, she hadn’t even been really crying; she had just needed Luisa to believe she was, so she felt bad enough for her to actually agree to stop couples therapy.

She stares at the phone lying on the bed for a moment, before making a choice.  
A radical one, but it’s the only way Rose would ever understand.  
She wipes a tear from her cheek and walks into the closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops!  
> Butt calling Luisa at the worst possible time - doesn't sound like our usually lucky Rose...
> 
> Tell me what you think and be prepared for a tear stained next chapter...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeps! I made it! *exhales* I managed to write another chapter!  
> I am so sorry for the long wait...
> 
> Alright, we haven't exactly left off at a happy point in this story, and it's not gonna get much happier during this chapter either - there you go, sorry number 2.

“Lu?” Rose’s voice echoes through the quiet apartment. “I’m back!”

She doesn’t get a reply, so she walks over to the kitchen counter, puts down the shopping bags, and just when she wants to approach the very suspicious piece of paper resting on the kitchen table, she can hear someone cursing in their bedroom.

She hurries over, feeling worried, but stops dead in her tracks, when she takes in the scene inside the room.  
“What are you doing?”

Rose stares at Luisa trying to pull the zipper of her massive, yellow suitcase closed.  
She is more puzzled than she sounds, and she only now realizes, she’s still clutching the bouquet of fresh flowers she bought for the vase on their kitchen table.

“You weren’t supposed to come back while I’m still here,” Luisa barks, wipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand, and tries that damned zipper one more time, her anger giving her the previously missing strength.

“... What?”  
Rose now does sound the slightest bit confused, and when Luisa shoots her a death glare, she sees her forehead wrinkled in confusion and her eyebrows raised questioningly.  
“And where are you planning to go? Spontaneous trip without me?” she chuckles, finally lowering the hand with the bouquet of pink azaleas.  
“Lu?”

Luisa looks at her again. Longer this time, and Rose sees no affection, no sparkling, shimmering, bursting-with-life brown eyes, but a broken heart reflecting in them, as another big, ugly tear rolls down her love’s cheek.

[She has seen Luisa’s heart in pieces before, so of course she could tell immediately.]

Luisa turns away from her again and grabs the handle of her suitcase, dragging it toward the door frame, in which Rose is still standing; that is, until she is shoved out of the way.

“What the heck is going on?! Would you be kind enough to fill me in?” Rose bursts, waving the flowers beside her in anger.

“Check your phone. You unfortunately… no, luckily, butt dialed me earlier, and I had the chance to eavesdrop a very interesting conversation!” Luisa yells back at her and grabs her keys from the couch table. “You have my permission to sell this apartment now, by the way!”

“Luisa! Stop this. What-”

Luisa heaves the keys at Rose across the room, who can just barely manage to block them; who knew flowers were so universally useful.  
“What are you talking about?” she asks, not wanting to believe what was happening right now. 

Luisa stares at her for another moment, suppressing a desperate sobb caused by the tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably now.  
“You’ll never change will you? You’ll never stop lying to me. I thought… I am done with you. For real this time. Forever, Rose. This is it.”

She opens the door, but hesitates, turns around to the one woman she had always been coming back to; had forgiven even the worst of things, because she had been worth it.

“You’re not going,” Rose almost chuckles, looking so confused, Luisa fears she might snap and ...  
She knew Rose would never hurt her. Even now.

“You’re not going.”  
The second time she says it, she knows that Luisa is most definitely going to, and they both hear it in the way her voice breaks a little at the end.  
There’s no ‘goodbye Rose’, or a ‘please don’t mess it up and get yourself killed’, or a ‘maybe one day we’ll meet again’.  
Luisa just slams the door, stands still behind it for five seconds, takes a deep breath, expecting her to pry open that door any moment to hold her back, to beg her to stay, to apologize… but that’s still her, that's still Rose behind that door, and Luisa makes it down to the entrance of the building and out on the streets without being followed.

-

She’s still trying to hail a taxi, when a well-known limo shows up beside her. 

“Get in. Let me take you,” Joey simply says. "Where are we going?"

"To the airport," Luisa sniffels and slips into the car, while he takes care of her suitcase.

-

Their drive is quiet for the first twenty minutes.  
Luisa is busy wiping at the sheer amount of tears streaming down her cheeks, and Joey makes sure to check her in the rearview mirror once or twice.

He is the one to speak up, and Luisa is reminded of how much she likes his voice.  
“Just to be clear, I won’t tell her I took you to the airport,” he informs her, and his words comfort her more than they should.

“Thank you, Joey,” Luisa replies, giving him the smallest of smiles.

It is quiet for a few minutes again, before Joey goes on.  
“She messed up big time. Again.”

Luisa just nods and stares out of the window. He probably doesn't even know how she found out about it. Maybe he even thinks, Rose came clean to her. If only she had. Then Luisa would've at least given her the chance of a long, deep talk.

“I’m sorry,” Joey says, searching for Luisa’s eyes. “She's just… nah, there's no excuses left for her. I should stop trying to defend her. She is a grown woman, and not a child anymore, so she has to stop behaving like one.”  
Luisa nods again and tries swallowing her tears; unsuccessfully.

“Joey?” she starts. “When you took her to the psychologist… I mean, whenever you didn’t take her to the psychologist… where’d you take her?”

She scared of his answer; scared to get to know what Rose has been up to instead of taking care of her restless mind.  
She actually doesn’t want, or need to know, if she had really got her fingers back into crime, but she can’t help wanting to know, if there was a chance of Rose being in danger.  
Her fear was pointless.

“Museums… I took her to different museums around the city and picked her up again after the time she really should’ve spent with that shri- psychologist. She filled quite some sketchbooks those days. Was always her way of self-therapy,” he admits and clears his throat.

If he wasn’t a man, he’d say things like ‘Oh Luisa, if only you would’ve stepped into her life sooner’, or ‘She really has been getting so much better with you being there for her’, or even ‘Luisa, she really needs you, and the greatest threat to her life, is you leaving her right now, even though she really deserves it’, but Joey is a proper man, a more or less discreet chauffeurs, and therefore, he doesn’t say any of this.

“She’s one lost soul, am I right?” he adds instead, and although it sounds detached and unbothered in Luisa’s ears, he isn’t, and he really sees through her too, just like Luisa does, but in this moment, Luisa has to stop herself from defending that person, she has just left behind because they probably are just what he said.

-

He lets her out at the airport, retrieves her suitcase from the trunk, and hands it to her with a small smile and a “Take care”.

She has already started walking, when this horrible feeling settles in the pit of her stomach again, and she turns back around to him once more, shouting “Joey, please keep an eye on her! Don’t let her get herself in trouble again!”  
He nods, and Luisa turns back to the glass door of London Heathrow Airport; the glass door to take off into a new life.

-

It takes Rose about an hour to gather her thoughts, comprehend the situation, and grab her phone.  
She isn’t really expecting Luisa to pick up, while she listens to her phone ring and stares at the sad remains of what had been a beautiful, pink bouquet less than an hour ago, and is now a heap of small, pink petals in front of the door.

After Luisa had slammed the front door, Rose had thought, she’d come back.  
She had hoped, Luisa wouldn’t end this like she had; with a barely two minute conversation, and a slammed door, and nothing more.  
It hadn’t even really been a conversation; she hadn't got the chance to defend herself, and hell, she had hoped Luisa wouldn’t do this at all ever.

When that door didn’t open again, the bouquet had ended up being thrown against it, and it hadn’t brought her the hoped-for feeling of relief at all.  
She had gone to pacing the apartment afterwards, before finally ending up at her spot on the kitchen counter, where she’s still sitting now, legs dangling, staring at her feet in those weird socks with flamingos on them, that Luisa had bought her only two days ago.  
She had checked her phone. She had called Luisa this morning, but she hadn’t meant to.

Rose was honestly questioning herself, but not because of all the lying (not yet at least), but because of how unlucky and clumsy she had been.

She had established a drug empire all by herself. Nobody had known, who Sin Rostro was for years, because she didn’t make mistakes.  
A few years ago, she had successfully stepped out of the drug world and built another business all by herself. And again, she hadn’t let anything happen by chance, hadn’t stepped into well-placed traps of the police or whoever had been out there chasing her.  
She had always been twelve steps ahead of everyone, and now she had just lost the love of her life, because she was stupid enough to call her by mistake and let her overhear a very inconvenient conversation?  
This just didn’t sound like her, and her usual luck at all.

She allows her mind to go blank again for a moment and goes back to staring at her socks.  
She didn’t even like flamingos…  
Or weird socks…  
But she definitely likes Luisa… a lot… 

She picks up her phone once more, tries calling her again, mumbling a quiet "Fuck", while biting at her thumb nail.

-

Luisa leaves the phone in the waiting area.  
She walks away and hears the familiar ringtone.

That particular song, which Rose had made her pick as the ringtone, whenever she called Luisa.  
It had been a joke; they had laughed their socks off that night back then; only a few months ago.

[ Shake me into the night and I'm an easy lover  
Take me into the fight and I'm an easy brother  
And I'm on fire ]

Rose had, at some point, started headbanging to that song, until she was so dizzy she stumbled over Luisa’s feet and ended up on her back, gasping for air in between fits of laughter.

[ Burn my sweet effigy, I'm a road runner  
Spill my guts on a wheel, I wanna taste uh-huh  
And I'm on fire  
And I'm on fire ]

Hearing it now, as she walks away from the empty seat she had sat in, waiting for boarding to start, where she had left her phone behind, she feels like she’s doing the right thing.

[ Wire me up to machines, I'll be your prisoner  
Find it hard to believe you are my murderer  
I'm on fire behind you  
It's a fallen sky  
I'm on fire, I'm going, you tell me, I feel it, I say it ]

And as the tune blends in with the noise of the terminal, Luisa leaves her behind, not knowing, if she’ll ever see her again; want to see her again.

Maybe… in a few years. She doubts it already, that she’d never want to see that face again, but right now, she’s doing the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for take-off?
> 
> Luisa sure is. Me and Rose? Not so much.
> 
> Rose is a jerk and deserves this, but I honestly completely agree with Joey - sometimes you just forgive her things, because she has the emotional knowledge level of a two year-old.
> 
> (The song's 'Fire' by Kasabian btw, and the head banging would work well with it... especially with that fiery, red mane lol)
> 
> Tell me what you think?  
> xx


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took me some time to figure out this chapter...  
> Hope it’s worth reading!
> 
> See you at the bottom(less pit of my regrets for loving this pairing a little too much)

[3 days...]

It takes Rose three full days to actually believe and understand Luisa isn’t coming back.

She had fallen asleep on the couch around 3am the day Luisa had left, thinking “Tomorrow morning, she’ll be back”.  
The following day, she had gone on a two hour run to tire herself out, in order to just fall into bed and sleep, and again she had hoped “She’ll come back”.  
Yesterday, she had woken up, feeling nauseous and sore, and she had realized, she hadn’t really eaten since Luisa had left.  
She also realized all that leaving business might be permanent, and had sat down with her laptop and some take-away that night, to find out where Luisa might be.

She blinks against the sunlight shining into her face now, and lifts her pounding head slowly off the table.  
She had always had a talent in falling asleep while working at her computer; throwback to her university days, with the difference that she used to be, more or less, fit again after five minutes and a double espresso back then.

Rose groans and slowly gets up, right away holding onto the table again, when a sudden blast of vertigo makes her see stars.  
All night, she had examined flights going out of London three days ago… at least, until crashing onto her keyboard face forward apparently.

Once her head has blood in it again, she drags herself to the bathroom and turns on the shower, takes her clothes off, and steps under the steaming spray of water.  
Trying to massage the knots from her neck, Rose whines loudly and curses herself for the approximately 1237th time, since she has let Luisa leave.  
What had she been thinking?  
Lying was the one thing Luisa couldn’t stand, and she had caught Rose red-handed in the worst possible way.

But honestly, what should she have done? Actually go to a psychologist weekly and waste money on something that is never going to bring satisfying results to anyone?  
She shouldn’t have lied to Luisa though…  
Fuck this.

She steps out of the shower and almost slips; the rag that usually lies there is probably still in the tumble drier…  
That machine in the small closet, Rose hasn’treally set foot in since moving into this apartment.  
Maybe she could have made more compromises for the sake of their relationship?

After also discovering a lack of towels, Rose waddles out of the bathroom, dripping everywhere and completely naked; what did they rent the rooftop apartment for, if not that?  
She opens the door to the little washroom and, after a short struggle to open the door of that tumble drier thing, she makes her way back to the bathroom with a grey rug and a towel in her hand, leaving puddles in her wake, and feeling utterly miserable.

She envelopes herself in the fresh, fluffy towel that smells so nicely of Luisa’s favourite fabric softener, and stays sitting on her reclaimed rug on the bathroom floor, until her hair is almost dry, and although her eyes are too, she knows, she might have lost her forever this time.

-

Luisa hadn’t gone too far.  
She had wanted to go back all the way to Miami at first, but soon overthought her impulsive plan and decided to head somewhere less obvious.  
It still wasn’t too hard to guess her destination though.  
They had been happy here.  
This had been their first stop in Europe.  
Their first temporary home.  
And the one they had kept for the longest time so far.  
Seven months in Paris.  
Just the two of them, last Autumn and Winter.  
Luisa could write a Romance novel about the time.

She walks past the entrance of the building their small apartment had been in, on this third day after leaving London behind in a hurry.

Paris had proven its name as the city of love, while they had lived here.  
Everything had been perfect.  
They hadn’t fought once.  
Probably also because neither of them wanted to mess it up; the ‘actually being able to be a couple’ thing.  
Luisa had cooked, and Rose had managed to charm herself to tables in the finest restaurants, if the cooking at home went wrong.  
She had even taken teaching Luisa French seriously and sat down with her for at least an hour daily, to train the basics.  
She does quietly appreciate Rose’s determination now; Paris, or more accurately, the Parisians were simply easier to get around, if one knew French. Even if it was just a little bit, and that with a Spanish accent.

Their apartment seemed to be taken again. Luisa can see a warm glow of light behind the curtains with the rose pattern, they had bought and left in there after moving out; after moving on…  
It was getting dark slowly; Summer had ended a while ago, and one could feel the air getting crisp and see the orange leaves fall to the ground.  
Just like last year, when they had first arrived in Paris; when everything had been so different still.

 

[11 days...]

“Where is she?”

She hadn’t been desperate enough to take Joey in for questioning before; she was now, after 11 days without Luisa.

“I don’t know.”

“You do. You took her to the airport, I know that!”

He sighs and takes a turn left, taking his time, checking if no other car was coming, just to have an excuse to not look into those ice cold, fire spitting eyes.  
When she had got in on the passenger seat, and not in the back as usually, he had feared this would become an inquisition.

“Tell me, goddamn, Joey!”

“Listen to yourself!” he bursts. He rarely… no, he never did, but he needed to, in order to make her listen and understand for once. “You’re the one who messed up, and still you’re acting as if you’re on the hunt for somebody, who stole something from you. She’s angry, and she’s lost her trust in you. She was right to leave, and I don’t know where she went. Let her out at the airport. That’s it, that’s all I know.”

Rose beside him huffs, sinks back into the leather seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest, pouting silently.  
She couldn’t deal with people telling her off, and she knew Joey knew that. It always took the wind out of her sails for an, admittedly, short period of time, but it did make her shut up for now.

“And… “ she stops herself, swallowing and this time, she’s the one to avert her eyes and stare out of the window. “How do I make it up to her?”

“Pardon me? Didn’t hear you?” Joey urges her to repeat it.

She looks at him with furious eyes.  
“You heard me.”

“I actually didn’t, sorry,” he apologizes, giving her a quick look with raised eyebrows.  
Rose looks like she is literally going to explode; Joey could swear, her hair has turned a brighter shade of red and her curls are standing off more chaotically now.

“Let me out.”

“We’re in the middle of-“  
Rose turns for the door, and Joey acts quicker, than you’d consider him capable.  
He presses the button for central locking; a limo had its advantages for the driver after all.

“Let. Me. Out.”

“No. I promised Luisa, I wouldn’t let you get yourself in trouble.”

“Joey,” Rose hisses, hand still on the door handle.

“Therefore,” Joey goes on in his typical, unfazed tone, ”I can’t let you jump out of a moving vehicle on a busy street with tempo limit 60 mph. I’d be breaking my promise, and you’d break your bones.”

“Then stop somewhere for goodness sake!!!”

“You wanna know what you should do now? Apologizing won’t do, I guess. You’d need to prover her your ambition to change and get better,” he goes on and stops the car at the side of the street.  
Rose pushes the door open, but turns around to him again.  
“So you did hear me.”

With that she’s gone, and Joey isn’t sure, if Rose might not actually fire him this time.

-

Luisa has made a decision.  
She had always ran back to her family, or what’s left of it, after a heartbreak.  
If she was breaking with old habits already, she better get rid of this tradition too.

She had come across a fateful job advertisement last week.

“Looking for Spanish speaking nanny - five days a week - two children - 7 and 3 years old”

Luisa had nothing to lose, so she called the provided number, and met up with the little family two days later.  
Martha was a single mom, had grown up in Barcelona, and moved to Paris for, well, love.  
She had found the one, too, had two kids with him, and then he had himself another, younger woman.

“I work almost all day, since the divorce, and Elio and Mavie’s Spanish is getting worse every single day they spend at the after school childcare or the nursery,” she told Luisa, who had Mavie on her lap, ever since letting her put sugar into her coffee and stirr afterwards. It never took long for kids to fall in love with Luisa, but three minutes was a new record, even for her.  
The older brother Elio was still a bit shy, but he smiled at her too once in a while.

When Luisa got to know Martha was a doctor (too), their conversation really got that flow, only Spanish conversations can have, and after talking about career, and love, and all those things that can give you so much, yet take a lot more at the same time, Luisa suddenly had a job.  
Before she even knew, she moved out of the hotel and into a parisian townhouse with eight bedrooms and a huge conservatory overlooking a secret garden, which wasn’t visible from the street.

She walked Elio to school in the morning, and spent the day playing with his little sister, whose Spanish had been revived much quicker than her brother’s.

On her third work day, the eleventh day without her own… family, Luisa walks back to school with Mavie, to pick up Elio, and something happens.  
The little girl is wearing a red dress, black tights, a duffle coat, bright red wellies, and the biggest smile.  
Luisa had french braided (how convenient) her dark brown hair this morning, and had been employed to do this every day from now on by the toddler, after she had observed, and approved of the result.  
She is holding Luisa’s hand, pulling her this and that direction, making her smile too, and then it happens.  
A woman approaches them; and no, it’s not Rose; she doesn’t even look like Rose; she looks like any woman passing by on the streets, but what she says hurts.

“Quelle belle fille! Elle vous ressemble!”

Luisa’s French still isn’t ‘magnifique’ at all, and although she understands, she is too shocked to answer; let alone in French.  
Mavie easily solves the problem, telling the woman “Elle n’est pas ma maman! Elle est ma nounou,” and dragging Luisa behind her, towards the school.

That evening, after reading Mavie three bedtime stories, and making Elio hot chocolate, when he came back downstairs, telling her his throat felt too sore to fall asleep, Luisa sits in her room, feeling utterly out of place.

She’s really missing her for the first time.

And yes, Rose had been the worst at sharing household chores, you couldn’t send her grocery shopping without her calling on the phone three times, asking where something was, or honestly, what something was, and she had never wanted kids.  
‘They give me the creeps’, she had said, and it had stung, but Luisa had been determined to make sacrifices.  
Now, there were no sacrifices left to make for this relationship, and she almost physically felt her time running out, her clock ticking, her long time wish to have kids becoming a utopia.  
She still had time.  
She was 38 years old; many woman had children with that age these days, and Luisa knew, she did want a child.  
She already was an aunt, but hadn’t even met her nephew once, nor her nieces, and now she had two kids all day long, but they weren’t hers; they never would be.

But she still missed Rose.

-

The moment her feet hit the ground, Rose had started walking; anywhere they’d carried her, just far enough away from Joey for a while.  
It was getting dark now, and for the first time, she realized, she had never been in this part of London before.  
Or better, she had no idea where she was.

She curses, takes out her phone, and curses again, finding it dead, asking for recharging.  
She seemingly didn’t have anything covered, when Luisa wasn’t here.

“Hey, you.”  
She addresses the boy crossing the street in front of her, staring into his phone and carrying a skateboard. The type of boy, who used to hit on her when she was a teen; unsuccessfully.

“You talkin’ to me?” he replies, taking one of his earphones out.

“Do you see anybody else out here?” Rose barks, but remembers to maybe not scare him away before getting what she needs. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Depends in the favour,” the boy says. He’s about sixteen, and Rose catches herself smiling, when she spots his Pink Floyd hoodie.

“Can I borrow your phone? I need a cab,” she says, and when he looks at her suspiciously, she sighs and grabs her wallet. “How much do you want?”

“No, miss, I was just wondering why you don’t take the tube. Station’s literally 3 minutes away,” he defends and points in the direction.

“Is it? Well, thank you then,” Rose says and dangles a five pound note in front of his nose, until he takes it, looking a bit embarrassed.  
She was used to paying for information, and not such ridiculous amounts as five pounds, but he didn’t know that.

She finds the tube station and gets a ticket.  
Rose wouldn’t exactly call herself a fan of subways; too many people, too smelly, and too many possibilities for terroristic attacks, but that night, she hated it more than ever.  
The station wasn’t crowded since, a) it was late, and b) it was rather far from the city center, but she would’ve preferred it busy and loud right now, so she couldn’t hear her own footsteps.  
The train finally arrives after ten long minutes, and when it comes to a halt in front of her, and her mirror image stares back at her, reflected in the glass windows, Rose thinks she might actually start screaming in frustration right on the spot.  
She looks exhausted, eye-ringed, pale, and dirty… although that might just be the window and not actually her.

It takes her more than an hour to get back to their neighbourhood, and another fifteen minutes to walk to their apartment. She could’ve made it in ten, but her heels were sore, and she took her time, kicking an empty can there, staring at the moon while walking for a while.  
When she shoves the key into the lock, and turns it, she’s feeling worse than ever, or almost as bad as a very long time ago at least, and she makes a decision.  
She wouldn’t look for Luisa.  
Not yet.  
She had to do something for her first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, this chapter wasn’t too happy yet.  
> Not sure if the next one will be, but you have my word for the happy ending!
> 
> Share your thoughts with me?  
> xx


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written in a hurry, and I want to apologize for the therefore rather low quality...  
> Sorry.  
> I’ll do better next time.
> 
> Deep feelings from Luisa’s side in this chapter...

28 days… 

Luisa’s life slipped into a comfortable routine far quicker than she had expected it to.  
The kids loved her, her employer, Martha, was more a friend than anything else, and she had discovered so many new places around the city; places not even Rose had seen before probably.

She tried to push her out of her thoughts whenever she caught herself looking after a woman with red hair on the streets, hoping it wasn’t her, and wishing it was, at the same time.  
It stunned her; there had been no sign of Rose reaching out to her. She had expected more from her honestly. Maybe, they had never depended on each other as much as they thought they did.  
Maybe Rose, for her part, was waiting for Luisa to contact her.

She was happy, yes, but she often couldn’t help wasting a thought on her; asking herself, “Would Rose enjoy this as much as I do?”, as she stood on top of a hill surrounded by high trees, letting the autumn sun warm her skin.  
They had taken the kids on a trip to the countryside for a weekend, and it was safe to say, everyone was enjoying it massively.

“Luisa!” Mavie yelled, sprinting towards her, obviously wanting to be lifted up, which she was and then spun around through the crisp air.  
The way she clutched to Luisa, her lips split into a huge grin, made Luisa want to cry behind the facade of her own smiling face.  
She wasn’t hers. They weren’t her family.

That night, she isn’t able to fall asleep.  
Her thoughts drift back and forth between how and where to start a completely new life without ever looking back, and well, without Rose.

She isn’t sure why, but suddenly she remembers the day she found that photograph tucked into the back of one of Rose’s old sketchbooks.  
It showed a red haired, crying toddler with scraped knees and a fallen over tricycle in the background, and Luisa hadn’t been able to stop looking at it.  
Rose had come in, had seen her staring at that baby picture, that was unmistakably showing her, and she had blushed, and she had been embarrassed, and she had admitted it was the only one she had.  
She had needed the hug, that Luisa had pulled her in after; not that she’d admitted it, but she had looked so sad and lost for a moment, Luisa felt it anyways.  
They had laughed about the picture then, Rose telling her, how she had never gotten the hang of that tricycle and had had accident after accident with it, until her father decided to teach her how to ride a bike and was surprised, how she was a lot better at that in no time.  
A week later, the picture was framed and up for display on their bookshelf, next to one of a tiny, pigtail Luisa.  
Luisa had always glanced at the twin frames walking by and thought how magical it would be to put up pictures of their own child there, too.

She catches herself crying.  
In her cozy, but lonely, and dark bedroom, and she realizes, how much she misses sleeping beside her, hearing her even breaths, the tiny noises she used to make, when she had one of her bad dreams, her annoying leg kicking and blanket stealing.

She couldn’t forgive her.  
Fooling her like this...  
Using the fact that she…  
Luisa didn’t even know how much of it had been real, and how much had only been an act.  
Yes, Rose was a sleepwalker, and she did have nightmares frequently; she knew that much, but she had used it to get what she wanted and that was just so wrong and evil.  
Not that Rose’s actions fell into this category for the first time.

-

She wakes up the next morning, not recalling ever drifting off to sleep, and with puffy, sore eyes, that Mavie asks her about at breakfast.

Luisa isn’t one to support telling lies to children for convenience, but Rose is one of those topics, she’d actually rather not discuss with a three year-old, and therefore she blames it on allergies, although it’s Autumn, and everything outside is turning orange, wilting, and falling to the ground.  
Much like Luisa’s state of mind really.

Martha sure does notice and asks, if she wants to join them later, going into town, but Luisa politely refuses.  
She heads out on her own after breakfast, sucking in deep breaths of cool morning air, and snuggles into her wooly scarf.

She finds that small shop again, where they sell the most amazing scented candles, and she picks up her favourite from back then, when they had still lived here.  
She takes off the cap and gives it a sniff, closes her eyes, and it feels like she’s standing in their old apartment, smelling of clean, fresh linen and a hint of roses.

God, she had been so sad the day they had moved out of that apartment.

When they talked about moving on, she had really wanted to actually; see some new city, yes, but as she stood there in the door, looking back at the small, but lovely living room with the floral curtains blocking out the slowly rising sun, she had shed a tear, afraid she wouldn’t like it, wherever they went next; not as much as she had liked it here.

Rose had sprinted back up the stairs, after having carried the last carton of what they had decided to take with them downstairs, and wondered what took Luisa so long.  
She had understood quickly, and she hadn’t said a word at first, just slung her arms around her love and held her, gently swaying her, still standing in that door that wasn’t theirs anymore, and she had pressed a kiss to her cheek from behind and finally said, “As long as we’re together, everywhere will feel like home.”  
And back then it had been true.  
Luisa had turned around in Rose’s arms, kissed her on the lips and said, “Let’s go home then.”

Luisa puts the candle back, leaves the shop, and realizes, she isn’t even close to a new routine.  
She is still too close to her.  
And her heart is far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d really appreciate some comments - I currently am in drawing / writing hell, and need some kind words to step up my game...  
> Pretty pleeeeeaaaase?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Moly.  
> A new chapter.
> 
> I am tired of trying to make this into a better chapter and am just going to upload it now to, saying it in Rose’s words, get it out of my system.

6 months…

Isn’t it funny how at first time never seems to pass at a new place?  
At first, you’re somewhat reluctant to accept your new location, maybe there’s even a bit of homesickness; if there has been a ‘home’ that you could miss.  
And suddenly you realize, you have been away from that ‘home’ for half a year.

Luisa’s French is better than it has ever been before; she has established a nice circle of friends - something she’d never had anywhere before either.

She still loves her job; Martha and the kids feel like a family, though Luisa has accepted and embraced her role as the kids 24/7 entertainer, and nothing more, nothing deeper.

It’s also the first time in her life, she would, only hypothetically of course, be open for adoption.  
She has learned that love doesn’t necessarily develop in the nine months of carrying a child under your heart, but rather with any child close and open enough towards you.

The most surprising thing, even to Luisa herself, is probably the fact that she’s seeing someone.  
She had seen her in her favourite bookshop for the first time.

Luisa and her had been the only people in there on this stormy Friday afternoon, both deeply invested in leaving gently through books. When Luisa had finally made her decision and picked her next read, she had wanted to pay, but nobody showed up at the cashier’s table.  
She called a polite, “Excuse me? I’d like to pay,” towards the restricted section, that was parted from the actual store by a curtain.  
Yet nobody came forth from the curtain.

Instead the other woman, who had been about as lost in the many, many books as Luisa, jumped and quickly made her way over to the counter.  
“I- ah… I apologize,” the blonde started in this typically French-accented, broken English, which sounded always sounded sexier than should be allowed; in Luisa’s ears at least.

She only now realized, she had spoken English earlier; reading through all those books had probably made her slip back into it unconsciously.  
“Pas de probleme,” she responded, smiling encouragingly at the slightly stressed blonde behind the counter.  
The woman looked up at her and awkwardly fixed her glasses. “French?” she asked hopefully.  
“Oui,” Luisa nodded, and the blonde sighed a sigh of relief, only to start rambling about how embarrassingly bad her English was.

She made Luisa smile; laugh out loud even, while she wrapped the book in a pretty, floral paper and insisted, a good book is a present to oneself and should therefore look like a present too.

And then she cut her finger on the paper.

She cursed silently, and was completely taken aback by Luisa reaching over the counter, grabbing her hand and inspecting the cut.  
After having bandaged the blonde’s finger with a Disney themed bandaid from her purse (when working with children, she had learned, band aids are to be carried around with you wherever you go, at all times), Luisa told her thanks and left a very bedazzled, blonde, French woman behind.

A woman, she had thought she’d maybe see again when coming back to the bookstore for new reading material, but not as soon as two days later, this time in her favourite café.  
This time it was the blonde’s turn to approach her, and this time, she seemed a little less in distress.  
“I always thought Paris was too big to meet the same people… uh you know, again,” she smiled, making Luisa look up from the very book she had sold her only two days ago. “I should thank you again for, uh…” she wiggled her hand up and down, Luisa spotting her finger now protected by a ‘normal’, more adult compatible band aid.  
“Français?” Luisa asked, wanting to release her from her struggle.  
“No, no, let me practise my English! What is your name?” the woman laughed, and accepted Luisa’s offer for her to sit down.

“Mhh, Luisa, that’s a beautiful name,” she said, and the way she pronounced it; the stress on the ‘a’ at the end of the name, it reminded Luisa of the one time Rose had given her one of those, most of the time exhausting French lessons, and pronounced it just the same way.  
Luisa had mocked her for it, and Rose had blushed, defending herself by telling her that was the proper way of pronouncing her name in French, but still, she had never done it again after that day.

She quickly pushed the thought of Rose and her old life away, focusing her attention entirely on that other beautiful woman right in front of her.  
They had one of the best conversations Luisa had ever had with anyone; about books, and women, and honestly the world itself, and later she payed for Luisa’s coffee, and for her non-alcoholic Sangria even later that night.

Her name was Clémence, the bookshop belonged to her, and four days later Luisa kissed her for the first time.

-

A month has passed since then, and they have seen each other almost every single day.  
They are both not sure what it is they have, but they don’t think about it too much; they just live for the moment, and it’s amazingly good that way.

They lie in that cozy bed of hers now, in her apartment on that pretty, quiet street.  
Luisa has stayed over for the first time, and so far she hasn’t regretted it.  
The morning sun is making the white curtains seem a fair yellow, and Clémence’s pale hand in Luisa’s is warm and soft, and her face is even softer, peering down at Luisa, who’s just waking up.  
“Good morning,” Clémence whispers, stroking a strand of brown hair off Luisa’s forehead.  
“Bonjour,” Luisa whispers back, following it up with a yawn.

-

“You never told me why you came to live in Paris actually,” Clémence ponders over breakfast.  
She had slipped out the apartment to buy croissants at the little boulangerie down the street, while Luisa had showered.  
Luisa takes another bite from the flakey pastry, in order to have a little more time to think of an answer; an answer that wouldn’t give away too many details, or better, wouldn’t give anything away about her personified problems, also known as ‘Rose’.

“I had to get away from everything… and everyone. I wanted to have a completely new start in the city, where some of my happiest memories ever were created,” she answers truthfully.  
“You ran away from uh… you know, from who?” Clémence asks now, and Luisa knew the question would be posed… in that cute, but definitely improving accent of hers.  
When she doesn’t reply, Clémence waves it off in a typically French manner.  
“Is okay, uh, you don’t need to talk about such things over breakfast. Excuse moi, it was… not very… quel est le mot... ‘polite’ of me to ask.”

“No, no… It is alright. You have a right to ask these questions! It’s just… “

And then Luisa pours her heart out, sitting over a half-finished croissant at this wonderful human being’s table, that she had met only a bit over a month ago.  
She talks about Rose, about their affair, her father (whose death she does not reveal as Rose’s doing though), their love and the life they had built, finally together; just about everything that comes to her mind; about how she felt for her, and what Rose had done to her.

She doesn’t know, when she had started crying, or at what point of the story Clémence had gotten up and taken the seat right beside her, to put an arm around her shoulder, silently urging her to keep going.  
When she’s finally done, she feels as if a weight has been lifted off her.  
She hadn’t realized how much she had just needed to talk about all of it to somebody.

-

“You don’t look well.”

“A good morning to you too, Joey.”

He sighs and starts to drive, and she goes back to breeding over her thoughts in silence.  
He gives her side glances once in a while, but except the occasional, necessary blinking, her posture stays the same until he stops in front of the building.

“Good luck.”

She glares at him.

“I’ll pick you up at twelve.”

The door is closed with a little more force than strictly necessary, and with yet another sigh, Joey drives off.

She hates the building.  
The outside maybe even more than the inside; the waiting room, and the office itself.  
Walking towards the huge, grey front entrance always meant she had yet to face the coming 90 minutes.  
Every fucking single one of them.

She always tries to arrive right on time, so she doesn’t have to sit down in one of the black leather chairs first (they feel like they could swallow you whole if you just sat there long enough), but can stride right into the lion cave.

Not today.  
She walks up and down the otherwise empty waiting room; manages to stop in front of the window for a while; stares down on the busy street far below; and goes right back to pacing.

This is as close to a panic attack as she’ll ever be probably.  
Or at least he’d say that.  
That she has been numbed throughout that childhood of hers, that he still doesn’t know enough about, and that she is incapable of feeling any emotion a hundred percent, and bla bla bla...

The wooden door opens, and his grey head; just as grey as the whole building really; comes into focus.

“Miss Ruvelle.”

It’s not a question to see if she’s there, or an invitation; it’s a command.  
And she admits, he’s right when he says it’s the only way she understands anything.  
In passing by, she reads the sign on the door for what feels like the hundredth time, and it’s still the ugliest font one could choose, spelling out ‘Dr. McCormack’ on a golden surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am craving your feedback as we are definitely nearing the end of this fic...
> 
> Excited?  
> I sure am bc I have yet to properly think about how to bring that ending to paper/screen ^^


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back for one last time, friends...  
> I hope I am able to fulfill my promise of a happy ending with this final chapter...
> 
> I apologize for my (wrong) use of French beforehand - couldn't reach any of my French irls, but wanted to post that chapter today...
> 
> Enjoy!

7 months…

Spring had arrived in Paris a while ago, and the parks were of a mesmerizing green, and the flowers slowly but steadily pushed their blossoms towards the warming sun, adding all colors of the rainbow to the city that had been mostly grey for the last few months.

It is Saturday, and Clémence has convinced Luisa to accompany her to one of Paris’ biggest farmers markets. As a reward, she had promised to cook something for them later.  
At first, Luisa had not been too excited by the idea of getting up early; she had babysitted Elio and Mavie yesterday, and the little one hadn’t been feeling well, so she kept on waking up and crying for Luisa to take her downstairs with her.  
Marché d'Aligre had managed to make getting up worth it already though.  
Luisa couldn’t get enough of the seemingly never ending, colorful stands packed to the brim with fresh fruit and vegetables, and the Parisians inspecting the goods critically before negotiating over a better price with the farmers.

“We should get some artichokes too,” Clémence ponders, falling into her mother tongue a second later, talking to the owner of the stand.  
Luisa turns around to let her eyes drift over the countless people, waiting for her to finish.  
The smile that she has been wearing ever since they arrived at this loud and lively place freezes, when she spots a fair face. A face she hasn’t seen in more than half a year; right there, in the colorful crowd of people.  
In that moment, she feels an arm around her waist, and Clémence’s voice in her ear.

“Sommes-nous prêts à partir?” she whispers, and presses a quick kiss to Luisa’s temple. “Luisa, are you okay?”  
Luisa has hastily turned around again, trying to find that face in the crowd; her face.

Every single time, she had spotted a woman with red hair in the streets, she had checked if it was her; just to be sure it wasn’t, and it never was.  
She had seen her face this time.  
She was sure of it, even if the eye contact had barely lasted a second.

“I… Can we check the stands over there?” Luisa stumbles, grabbing Clémence’s hand and dragging her towards the spot, where she thinks she had seen her.  
“What is wrong?” the blonde being dragged through the crowd of people asks, but Luisa just continues striding to the row of stands selling all sorts of Spring flowers.  
She turns around, lets her eyes drift over the masses of people, trying to spot a familiar flash of red hair, but, assuming that she hadn’t imagined her entirely; that she hadn’t been a mirage constructed by Luisa’s subconscious, Rose is gone now.  
“I thought I saw someone.”

-

They sit across from each other, over their empty plates, tummies filled with probably the best Ratatouille Luisa had ever eaten, and yet she had been somewhat absent during the meal.  
“You saw her right? … Rose, oui?” Clémence clears her voice, and looks at the sleek surface of the wooden table separating them.

“I thought I did… I probably imagined it,” Luisa answers quietly. “There has been no word in so long. Why would she show up in Paris now?”

“Maybe she needed time?”

“Time for what? Time to think up another lie to make me come back to her?”

She hadn’t expected to feel this hurt still. She told herself that she’s over her; that Rose is her past, and now she has moved on.  
What a sad little lie she has made herself believe there…

“She saw us together. No wonder she was gone so quickly… I am sorry.”

“Oh god, no! Don’t be sorry for anything! I only imagined her, I’m sure. Wouldn’t be the first time I’m imagining someone either… ”

“You did seem sure when you pushed through the people as fast as you could… “

Luisa doesn’t respond, she just mimics Clémence’s table-staring.  
“Do you miss her?”

The questions strikes right where it meant to, and Luisa can feel a tear rolling down her cheek. What kind of monster was she herself, making this wonderful woman deal with her twisted ex-lover history? More tears join the stream, and Clémence gets up from her chair to sit beside Luisa.

“If you really saw her, we’ll find her. I’ll help you,” she says slowly with a small, reassuring smile, and drapes an arm around Luisa’s shaking form for comfort. “How hard can it be? We just need to check out every redhead in Paris. There can’t be that many, am I right?”  
She squeezes Luisa’s shoulder, trying to make her smile, but only getting a half smile, half sob out of her.

-

‘Joey?’

‘Is that you, Luisa?’

‘Yes, it’s me. How are you, Joey?’

‘C’mon, you don’t wanna know how I am. Don’t you rather wanna know how somebody else is, hm?’

Luisa chuckles, and she can hear Joey sigh through the speaker.

‘Actually, I just need to ask you one thing. Just for clarity. Joey? Is Rose in Paris?’

The line is silent for a while.  
Another deep sigh.

‘Don’t tell me she messed it up already?’

‘Messed up what? So she is in Paris?!’

‘Never thought I’d live to see the day Ruvelle is scared sh… spitless to go through with something -’ Joey mumbles before clearing his voice. ‘She… she is, Luisa, yes.’

‘Thank you, Joey.’

-

2 weeks later…

Luisa had never felt more frustrated in her life.  
She wanted to find her, but she didn’t necessarily want to see her.  
Or better, she had no idea what to say and how to react once standing in front of her.  
Well, right now it looks like she would never have to think about it anyways, because Rose was nowhere to be found, no matter how hard Clémence and her tried to find a trace of her.  
Luisa had even called Joey a second time, to ask if Rose had left Paris already again and gone back to London.  
She hadn’t, but she apparently didn’t want to be found anymore after seeing Luisa had most likely moved on.  
Which she hadn’t.  
At least that was obvious to Clémence, who made sure Luisa got some hours of sleep between the crying fits and their feverish search for a woman, she didn’t know she wanted Luisa to go back to.

What they did know by now was that Rose had really been at Marché d'Aligre that Saturday, and they also knew how she had known to find Luisa there.

“There was this delivery girl, who said she had a package for you and that it was urgent… I got tangled up in a conversation with her, and at some point I mentioned you went to the market that morning,” Martha admitted, after Luisa confessed to her, why she was so tired and absent these days. “I’m so sorry, good god, I gave her your location just like that… “  
Luisa calmed her and told her that Rose would have somehow found her anyways.

The problem now was, Rose was not nearly as easy to find as Luisa had been.  
Considering the police weren’t able to do so either, Luisa felt a little less frustrated but still…

All the effort they had put into finding her, made the place and the way they finally found her seem like a bad joke.

The flu was going around, and Mavie had come down with it, as Luisa had expected, when she had been so clingy two weeks ago, and although she was much better now, she was still coughing.  
It was Saturday again, but Luisa had promised Martha she’d pick up some more cough drops at the pharmacy for the little one anyways, and Clémence met her in town to have coffee afterwards.  
They stand waiting in the cue, when the automatic doors open again, and Luisa looks back just out of boredom.

“No way…”

Brown eyes meet blue ones for a moment, but Rose has turned around, before the doors can even close again.

“Rose, WAIT!

Luisa runs after her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around with so much ferocity, Rose almost loses her footing.  
Her anger washes away the second she is able to take in Rose’s appearance from a closer distance, and she lets go of her arm.  
Rose looks heartbreakingly miserable, to say the least.  
She is wearing her glasses, red curls in a messy updo, her eyes are glassy and red, her complexion is of a sickly, green-ish white, except for the tip of her nose; she could probably stop traffic with it, given how bleeping red it is.

“Goodness,” Luisa whispers, instinctively reaching up to feel Rose’s cheek. Her hand is caught midway and gently pushed away.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” is all Rose says before turning around again, only to be held back by her arm once more.

“No, no, no. I’ve been trying to find you for two weeks, and I’m not just gonna let you walk away now,” Luisa protests, and behind her Clémence steps out on the street.  
Luisa doesn’t have to turn around to know she is there, and that Rose did see her too.

“I didn’t want to interrupt anything,” Rose croaks, before clearing her voice. It’s quite obvious she can’t look Luisa in the eyes. “You looked so happy together… It was nothing but bad luck you caught sight of me. I would have left, and you would’ve never known I had been there at all. Would’ve been better.”

“Why are you here, Rose?” Luisa asks slowly, still not letting go of her arm; not able to believe she’s standing right in front of her now, warm and solid beneath her fingertips.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to stay.”

“But-”

“Ey,” Rose addresses at Clémence, “Promets-moi que tu la garderas en sécurité?”  
The blonde nods her head shyly, her mouth half open.  
“Bien, merci,” Rose snorts, and it either sounds sarcastic because she has a massive cold, or because she did intend it to sound that way.  
Luisa’s hand is wiped off her arm again, carefully but definitely.

“It’s better that way.”  
And just like that she walks away, and Luisa just stands there paralyzed, looking after her until she disappears in the distance.

-

Luisa isn’t sure why, but she knows now where to find her.  
She has spent the afternoon with Clémence, talking about them, about Rose, about the messed up situation.  
The blonde had told her to go and talk to her, and Luisa couldn’t verbally express how thankful she was that she’d said that.

She is standing outside the door of their old apartment now.  
She hadn’t seen any light from behind the curtains before entering the building, and really there was no way to be sure she’d be here. The place had been rented by a couple after they had moved out, but somehow Luisa knows, they’re not here anymore.  
Her hand shakes when she rings the doorbell, and she holds her breath.

Nothing.

She tries the doorbell again.  
Still nothing.

Already contemplating to leave again, she knocks on the door, not really expecting anything to happen anymore.  
And then suddenly, there’s the noise of somebody stepping on the slightly creaky, wooden floor, walking over to the door, and turning the keys.

Rose is not prepared for who is standing there in front of the door, neither is she for the coughing fit that overcomes her in just that moment.  
Luisa pushes the door open completely and starts patting her on the back until it more or less ebbs off.  
“What are you doing here?” Rose coughs out, obviously not yet entirely awake either, or she would have certainly tried swatting Luisa’s hands keeping her upright away.

“I asked you first,” Luisa reminds her and closes the door, replacing her hand on Rose’s shoulder again right after, pushing her further into the room, towards the couch where she had most likely napped until a minute ago.  
After she has made Rose sit back down there, she digs in her bag, producing a sortiment of meds from it.  
“Alright now, you need something for that cough and for the fever,” she grabs two small boxes, “and the other ones are gonna help with the rest. Are you ever capable of not getting yourself in trouble when I’m not there?”  
Rose even smiles a tiny bit; the well-known routine of Luisa feeling her cheek and forehead, stroking her thumb across her cheekbone, before taking her temperature, makes her forget everything for a split second; or maybe it’s just the fever that’s making her hazy.

“Yeah, you will take these right now without complaining, or I’m gonna admit you to a French hospital, woman,” Luisa states, getting up to fetch a glass of water.

“If you hadn’t disturbed me this morning I would’ve gotten some medicine,” Rose reminds her in a husky voice, before another coughing fit shakes her.

“Disturbed you? I’d put it the other way round. You are the one who came to Paris…”  
It’s not an insult. Luisa has stopped dead in her track back to where Rose is cowering on the couch. She shakes herself and steps forward, pressing the glass of water and a big pill into pale, freckled hands.  
[God, how she had missed those hands…]

“I shouldn’t have,” Rose sniffles, but takes the pill and downs it with water cooperatively. “You have found a new life. That’s the best thing that could’ve happened to you, rationally thinking.”  
Luisa carefully sits down beside her. Rose is radiating warmth even if Luisa is not directly touching her, and the situation is familiar enough for Luisa to want to reach out and take her in her arms; just like that.  
Something does still stop her though.  
“The fact that you’re saying this makes me want to be here right now,” Luisa whispers. “I want to know why you came looking for me… why now?”

Rose sneezes before Luisa can completely finish her sentence, and that sound she hadn’t heard in such a long time, makes Luisa give a concerned, “Awww,” before handing her the box of Kleenex from the table.  
Rose takes time blowing her nose, and Luisa catches herself thinking, how it shouldn’t be possible for her to appear so helpless and harmless just because of a cold.

“I had a plan… “ Rose starts weakly, and follows it up with a big sniffle to underline what she’s just said. “But I can tell when a battle is lost so… “

“You don’t know anything… She told me to find you, and to come here tonight,” Luisa sighs. “But besides, it’s been seven months! Seven fucking months without a words from you, Rose! What did you expect? That you’d come and find me here, and we’d just be fine again? Just like that? How did you even get the apartment back? Where’s the couple that moved in after us?”  
She looks around the room.  
It is only sparsely furnished, to be truthful, there’s not much in here except the little island of a couch they’re both stranded on right now.

“I politely asked them to move out about three months ago,” Rose starts with the easiest question. “I own the place… Under a different name of course… Inherited it from my father to tell you the whole truth. It’s hard to find a good place to stay in Paris, and you were so impatient back then, so I told you we’d gotten an offer…”  
She smiles apologetically.  
“And then you hired someone to play an estate agent?” Luisa asks, bewildered by yet another lie Rose had told her in the past.  
“No, I didn’t even have to. The place really was on sale. The estate agent had no idea who I was… In fact, he still has no idea who owns this place, only that the monthly rent is transferred to an account in Switzerland, which happens to be my own,” Rose explains, coughing the last few words out. “I thought answering this would make a good start… How wrong I was. Just another lie I told you, wow.”

“And the reason for it was that you wanted to make the apartment hunt more exciting for me… God, Rose, you’re such a twisted person, you know… “ Luisa groans and lightly kicks her in the shin. “Go on, I have more questions. What have you been up to?”

Rose hesitates, slouching a bit further down on the couch and drawing the blanket closer to her body. “Been trying to make up for another lie… “

“Elaborate please?”

“ … I’ve been going to therapy ever since you left. Like, I really went there, you know… and now this oh-so-sophisticated, white man, who thinks he can reset people and make them perfectly functioning citizens has told me to seek out the reason of my ‘distress’, as he likes to call it,” she rolls her eyes, before sneezing again. “He thought that I have made enough progress to…“

“To what?”

“To apologize to you properly.”

Luisa holds the eye contact, and Rose endures it too this time.  
They’re both quiet for a while.

“I hate that I’ve got to do this in English,” Rose sniffles, before blowing her nose preparatory one more time. “Every other language I know has found better words than ‘I’m sorry’. It always sounds like you don’t mean it a hundred percent, and that’s got nothing to do with me personally.”

Luisa chuckles, “What language would you prefer?”

“French sounds good for every occasion… German has a great way of saying it too: ‘Es tut mir Leid’, quite literally means ‘what I did hurts me’, and that’s an awesome way of saying sorry, isn’t it? Those seven months did hurt a whole lot… “

“You really have been to therapy, haven’t you?” Luisa asks, sounding a bit unbelieving.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Rose grins wickedly, before she is struck down by a triple-sneeze.

“That was Karma in its purest form just now,” Luisa laughs, while Rose groans exasperatedly beside her.  
They’re touching now; just barely at the shoulders, and it feels too good to be true to both of them.

“I really have been going to therapy, yes, and I will continue to do so, Luisa… because you’re worth it. Because I want to be good. Because I want you, and because I am really sorry for what I did to you.”  
It’s not nearly as much as she could’ve said; only scratching at the surface of all the cathartic thoughts she’d had this past half year; all the things she wants Luisa to know, to understand, because she might finally be able to express them to her.  
But it is enough for her to be pulled into a liberating embrace, shoulder being wet by tears of the one person she doesn’t want to see crying again, because she’s the reason; she has always been the reason these past few years, no matter if they were tears of anger and despair, or tears of happiness that can never be completely justified.

“I’m so sorry, Luisa.”

“I still love you, Rose.”

They lose all sense of time, and when Luisa finally checks her phone, there’s ten missed calls from Clémence, three from Martha, and the clock tells her it’s two AM.  
Rose has rested her head on the back of the couch and looks at her through groggy eyes and with so much adoration, it breaks Luisa’s heart, and she reaches up to feel her temperature again, to have something to do, so she doesn’t just sit there and stare at her the same way.  
She makes them some tea, and texts Clémence and Martha, telling them everything is alright, before joining Rose on the couch again.

“You should catch some sleep, sicky,” she whispers after a while, watching Rose’s eyes flutter tiredly, while sucking peacefully at what was approximately the tenth cough drop and having her curls caressed by Luisa’s gentle hands.  
Rose’s eyes light up a bit, when she abruptly sits up again and puts a hand on Luisa’s cheek, waiting for a sign; an allowance; an invitation to go on.  
They’d always had this rule.  
There’s always a goodnight kiss; no matter if they’d had a fight that day, or if one of them was sick (in that case it might be closed mouth, or just on the cheek).  
Not tonight though.  
Luisa pulls Rose in by her neck, and their lips meet for the first time in far too long.  
Their kiss tastes of Luisa’s earlier, salty tears, and Rose’s sticky, sweet cough drops, of good old days, and of homecoming.

They spend the night on the couch.  
They don’t talk about it, but they both don’t think the time’s ready yet for them to sleep side by side in this bed again.  
Not yet.

-

Luisa meets up with Clémence a couple of times during the following week, while Rose recovers at the apartment, or should she call it ‘home’ again?  
She does once, while talking to the blonde, and she only realizes she did, when Clémence swallows hard and looks away.  
“I am happy for you, Luisa. I just hope you won’t get hurt anymore.”  
After that day, she won’t respond to Luisa’s calls anymore, which doesn’t make Luisa herself that happy, so Rose proves herself and finds a way to take care of it.

-

“Bonjour,” she utters politely, when entering the bookshop, glad her voice has gone back to its usual smooth, velvety timbre.  
Clémence is standing at one of the bookshelves, absently returning the ‘bonjour’ but not looking at the potential customer that has entered the shop.  
She is oblivious to Rose’s presence, until a letter with her own name is held out to her.  
“She wants you to have this,” Rose explains, and she allows herself to acknowledge that Clémence is beautiful for the first time. “And I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for her.”

Their eyes only meet for one long moment, and Clémence tells her to not mess this up another time in rapid French, knowing Rose understands, and that’s it.

-

They stay in Paris for another few months, their lives slowly entwining again, their love renewed, the sex better than ever.  
Luisa mentions she would like to go back to the states for a while; see her brother again, maybe even her nephew and nieces, and although Rose is not too excited of the thought, or of the mask coming with it, she agrees.  
She could use a break from therapy, and Europe’s familiar stiffness and politeness for a while, to have some greasy food with Luisa on the road to Miami, and some post-coital powdered donuts from the vending machine in their hotel room.  
Little did they know of what was awaiting them.

 

[And the rest is canon, I’m afraid… Let’s just call it ‘The End’ for now]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am still not able to believe I have managed to wrap this fic up in ten chapters...  
> Did take a while but it is done now...
> 
> It would mean the world to me to hear what you think of it one last time!
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and the patience this fic required therefore!  
> (I'm terrible when it comes to consistency, I know)
> 
> xx Cate


End file.
